


Streets

by AgentExile



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (but it's a love story really), Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Architect Otabek, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Prostitute Yuri, power bottom yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-02-04 02:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentExile/pseuds/AgentExile
Summary: Otabek Altin is an overworked architect, searching for connection in the big, lonely city. Against his better judgment, Otabek finds himself driving around the backstreets of Moscow.Yuri Plisetsky is a sharp-witted prostitute, rueing a slow night. When he finds himself in the apartment of a shy, inexperienced, but wealthy client, he is determined to give the man a night to remember.The only problem is: Yuri can't seem to forget that night either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a one-shot that I had been musing over for a while but it ended up getting too long so it’s sort of turned into a two-shot. I haven’t edited the second half yet but it should be uploaded next week ^_^

Yuri paced his patch with a particularly sour expression colouring his features. It was a bad night, the cold of the oncoming winter creeping in, and a hint of sleet threatening the air. Most clients avoided this kind of weather, and the untimely intervention from the police two weeks earlier had left the backstreets all but deserted. It was nearing 3am, and Yuri had serviced one client all night. One rushed blowjob in an alley wasn’t going to pay his rent.

   ‘Hey, Gabe!’

   Yuri turned, responding automatically to the name he used on the job. _Gabriel_.

   ‘I’m calling it a night,’ said Anastacia, the only colleague that he allowed to share his turf. Her client base rarely intersected with his, and together they were able to mostly monopolise the street.

   He gave a loud, exaggerated groan. ‘Don’t leave me out here alone.’

   ‘Honey, no one’s coming. You should turn in too.’

   Yuri glanced up and down the deserted road, rubbing his hands together to try to conjure some warmth. Neither of them were dressed for the cold, Anastacia in a cut-out dress, and he in only ripped jeans and a loose tank. Still, a few more hours in the cold could just afford him his heating for the winter, and the cut-price basement room that he shared with Milo, a low level pusher, sure as hell needed it.

   ‘I’m gonna give it another hour.’

   She looked at him sympathetically. ‘Alright, angel, but you call me when you get home, okay? No forgetting again. I don’t trust the guys that pick you up.’

   Yuri shared her disdain for both of their clientele, but he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Cross my heart.’ He made a mental note to save any coins he found for the battered payphone outside their building, determined not to leave her hanging again.

   ‘See you tomorrow, pussycat,’ she said, reserving her favourite nickname for him until last.

   He swatted at her as she darted away, throwing a quick wave over her shoulder, and then all too soon, he was alone.

   ‘For fuck’s sake,’ he muttered to himself, shuffling over to his bag, hidden behind an industrial sized trash unit, and searching for his gloves. The men would have to deal with it. It wasn’t like there was anyone else left in the district anyway, and beggars oughtn’t be choosers. He even considered his hat, but he returned to his spot with just the leopard patterned fingerless gloves, hopping from leg to leg as though the movement would keep him warm.

   Then, like a port in a storm, dim lights appeared in the distance, and hope fluttered in Yuri’s stomach. Hope and trepidation. Nearly three years on the job had not nullified the nervousness that came with every client. _What if this was the one? What if this was the time he’d end up in a ditch, little more than a footnote buried in the morning news, just another body?_ He pushed the ever present thought to the back of his head as he always did, telling himself that he was being irrational, and tried to conjure up the spirit of Gabriel.

   Yuri was sarcastic, skittish, and regularly sulky. Gabriel was sexy, sensual, and suggestive, words littered with innuendo and eyes burning with lust, no matter who was the object of his attention.

   He walked a little way up the road, swinging his hips as Gabriel and lifting his hand to stroke his fingers in the air - a coquettish, enticing wave.

   The car slowed, crawling down the street.

   Oh yes, Yuri was _definitely_ getting paid tonight.

*

Otabek had no idea how he had ended up here.

   He wanted to reverse away from this ridiculous situation, swing back to the bright lights and traffic of the city, but it was a one way street, and Otabek was nothing if not a stickler for the rules.

   The memory of two hours earlier swam into his mind. _God_ he hated Rustam.    

   _‘Otabek, mate, you really need to get laid.’_

_‘Fuck off, Rus,’ Otabek had muttered, albeit without much conviction. He was chewing the end of a pencil, eyes focussed hard on his computer screen. The graphic rotated slowly in front of him, the lines of the building fuzzing in his tired eyes._

_His brother’s sounded exasperated, even down the phone. ‘Come on, Ote, all you ever do is work - work - work! You gotta let off some steam.’_

_‘Oh right, and obviously sex is the only solution.’_

_‘Damn right it is.’_

_‘Okay, Rus, I’ll just go and find a new boyfriend who’ll have sex with me tonight, at 1am, in rainy Moscow.’_

_‘Oh brother,’ Rus shook his head with mock pity, ‘that’s what whores are for.’_

Otabek had looked away from the screen in horror, astonished at Rustam’s callousness, blanching at the ridiculousness of his suggestion.

   And yet somehow, in some bizarre sequence of events, he had indeed ended up in his car at now 3am, trailing around the streets that Rus, despite his lack of knowledge of Moscow, had directed him to. _Trust me, I have my sources!_ Thankfully, his brother seemed to be ill-informed, because the streets were almost entirely empty, save for a couple of addicts sheltering in doorways. Most of the buildings seemed abandoned, and the few figures that he did see did not spare him a glance.

   Until _him_.

   ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Otabek exhaled as he saw the figure approaching from the dark.

   He was slender, small but visibly confident. He moved with a grace that Otabek never would have imagined when Rus had used to word ‘ _whore_.’

   Otabek slowed the car as much as he could, worried that he might bump into the man in the dark, narrow street, and for a moment he hoped that the figure would simply walk past him, and he could drive back to his apartment and bury himself back in his building plans where he was most comfortable. But he didn’t walk past. He slowed to a stop right beside Otabek’s car. And Otabek stopped automatically beside him, squinting in the dim light from the headlamps.

   The figure leaned down and knocked his knuckles on the glass.

   Slowly, painfully, as every fibre of his body told him to just drive away, Otabek leant over to wind down the window.

   Otabek stared. Words like _hot_ , _sexy,_ rolled through his mind, but they were too blunt for that face. The streetwalker was _beautiful_.

   He was underfed, betrayed by cheekbones that could cut glass, and, Otabek felt, he had the air of a person generally _uncared-for_. But that couldn’t mask the elegant form underneath. He had small, pointed features, but wide, almost soft eyes, in contrast with his cutting brows, which gave him the appearance of a near-constant frown. His hair was long for a man, brushing his shoulders, and a warm blonde that for some reason reminded Otabek of home.

   ‘Are you meeting someone?’ the man said, in a voice that seemed not really his own. It was alluring, suggestive, and did not suit his innocently beautiful face.

   Otabek stared on, opening his mouth as if to speak but unable to find words. He realised, as the man rested his elbows on the open window frame, that he was wearing only a thin tank. _He must be freezing_. He was struck by the sudden urge to bring him into the car if only to offer him some sort of shelter from the Moscow fall.

   ‘You wanna tell me your name, honey?’

   His name. He knew the answer to that one. _Come on, idiot._ ‘Otabek,’ he said, with considerable effort.

   ‘Do you want me to take care of you tonight, Otabek?’

   His body flushed with an unfamiliar feeling. There was something about the way that he said his name that sent a current through his veins, settling somewhere in his lower navel. Something about the way that his tongue touched against his teeth on the _t._

That did it. Against his better judgment, against everything that he had ever been taught about safety and morality, he nodded.

*

   Yuri had to stop himself from positively beaming.

   This guy was _cute_. In so many ways.

   He rarely found himself meeting clients like this one. Men who looked like this could find their own partners, they didn’t need the streets. Men who drove cars like this hired top-class, top-price escorts, not desperate boys trying to pay their rent. And yet there he was, on this street, in that car.

   Yuri went to open the door himself, but the client made a great show of stretching across the car to scramble open it from the inside. _He wants to be a gentleman_. Yuri had to stop himself from smiling too much.  

   He sat down in the white leather seat, his heart pounding. Usually, he would never get into a client’s car without first agreeing on his costs. He preferred to work in his territory anyway, and would usually only travel with well-paying, familiar clients. But this man was safe. And cost wasn’t going to be a problem. He’d known these things from the second he’d rolled down the window.

   Otabek didn’t start the car moving immediately.

   Yuri shifted uncomfortably, twisting his fingers together. Was he changing his mind?

   Then Otabek leant forwards, shrugging off the blazer from around his shoulders. Yuri stared at him.

   ‘Here.’

   Yuri took the jacket, more to be polite than anything else. It was smooth as silk, elegantly woven. He might never have owned anything like this, but Yuri knew how to recognise quality. He’d always had an eye for beautiful things. He rested it over his shoulders, not wanting to dirty it.

   ‘Is it… is it okay to go to mine? Would you rather… a hotel? Or… I can…’ the man finally spoke, making Yuri smile again. He’d wondered how long it would take him to find his tongue. He had an appealing accent, his Russian fluent but distinctly different to the usual sounds of Moscow.

   ‘Wherever you want to go, my love,’ said Yuri, looking away from him to give him the illusion of space. It also offered Yuri himself the opportunity to blush in peace, because looking into those stoic brown eyes for too long threatened to bring out his well-buried shy side.

   Otabek pulled away down the street, reaching out to turn the heat in the car up.

   They sat in silence for a while. Yuri was cautious, afraid to say the wrong thing and jeopardise the job. He was turning over thoughts in his head at lightning speed, knowing that he could push the price up. This man was a first-timer - there was no way he’d ever hired a whore before - and first-timers were usually loose with their wallets. Still, there was a small, kinder part of him that felt guilty at the thought of overcharging _this_ one.

   ‘What’s your name?’ Otabek’s nerves were obvious in his voice.

   ‘Yuri,’ he answered automatically, before catching himself so suddenly that his breath seemed to get trapped in his throat.

   He didn’t know why he’d said it. _Never_. _Never_ had he said that name to his clients, and yet it had stumbled out with ease, as though he said it every time. Sometimes they accepted Gabriel, sometimes they asked him for his _real_ name (a predictable and tedious power play), and he had adopted many other names for their pleasure, but _never_ had he given out _Yuri_.

   Had he let his guard down too far? Had he felt a little too comfortable in this fancy car, with this handsome man, wearing his jacket like his boyfriend?

   Otabek, of course, could know nothing of the situation that had just erupted in his head.

   ‘Yuri,’ he said slowly, enunciating the two syllables separately.

   Yuri had to admit it to himself: he liked hearing him say his name. Maybe he could take this opportunity to pretend, for this one night, that this _was_ his boyfriend. He could pretend that his partner, handsome and successful, had just picked him up from work to take him home. _No_. Yuri knew that these kinds of thoughts were dangerous. ‘But you can call me anything you want.’

   Yuri had been given many names by the men he serviced. _Angel. Slut. Baby. Whore. Princess. Kitten._ The last, at least, was a diminutive he accepted for himself.

   ‘Can I just call you Yuri?’

   His heart fluttered again. ‘Mm.’

   ‘I’m… I’m sorry… I’ve never done this before.’

   Yuri gave a small, light laugh. ‘Don’t worry, I have. I’ll look after you.’

   ‘Here…’ he said, pulling the car over into a reserved parking space. They had travelled to the good part of town.

   Suddenly, Yuri was self-conscious, an unfamiliar feeling. His look went down well in his quarter, but he was instantly worried about what anyone who saw them would think about Otabek bringing back a boy in ripped jeans and leopard gloves. He shook himself a little. Why should he care what anyone thought of Otabek?

   He opened his own door, determined not to get too caught up in the fantasy scenario his mind was conjuring. _Just another job. Just another client. Just another dirty man hiring someone to fuck._

He followed Otabek, who seemed to have forgotten how to speak again, up to a tall apartment block. He typed in a short code, and held open the door for Yuri to slip under his arm.

   Yuri was relieved to see that the lobby was not manned.

   ‘I’m on the ninth floor,’ said Otabek, with obvious effort to keep his voice steady.

   Yuri was fairly sure that the minute they spent in the elevator was more awkward for Otabek than him. After letting strangers fuck you for money for as long as Yuri had, embarrassment wasn’t really a problem anymore. Otabek, however, paced the small space back and forth, wringing his hands.

   Yuri watched him with a smile. It was nice to get a look at him in the light. His face was angular, masculine and strong. It made Yuri feel soft in comparison.

   ‘Don’t be nervous,’ he said, giving Otabek a reassuring smile.

   When they stepped out of the elevator, Yuri took in the corridor greedily. The carpet was spotless, the walls pristinely wallpapered, and the brass door fittings polished to a shine. Otabek went to the last of the three doors, unlocking it with slightly shaking hands and standing aside for Yuri to enter his apartment.

   Okay, so his actual living quarters were not as immaculately maintained as the communal areas. Still, he seemed to collate clutter rather than dirt, unlike most of the men that Yuri went home with, and even the mess looked as though it had been carefully designed.

   The lighting was low and warm, and Otabek went around the living room switching on several industrial-looking lamps. Yuri hoped that he wouldn’t start lighting candles.

   Yuri walked around, unperturbed by his client’s relative silence, and traced his fingers through the air over some of the surfaces, careful not to touch anything. The rough silver paint on the walls; the teetering stack of books with complex titles that dominated the far corner; the empty whiskey bottle on the low coffee table.

   ‘What do you do for a living?’ he asked. It was his default question for the shy ones.

   ‘Uh… oh… I’m an architect,’ spluttered Otabek.

   ‘Any buildings I’d know?’

   ‘Uh… I’m working right now on the new central street bank, but most of my buildings are back home in Kazakhstan.’  

   _Kazakhstan_. That lovely accent.

   ‘I hope your buildings are half as good-looking as you are,’ said Yuri, turning to make firm eye contact with him.

   Otabek flushed, looking quickly away to try to maintain his composure.

   Yuri smiled. He had always liked the effect that he had on people.

   ‘Um… do you want me to… pay you first?’ The words tumbled out of Otabek in a rush, as though getting through them quickly would negate their awkwardness.

   ‘Sure.’

   ‘How much…?’ Otabek opened a small silver box from the mantelpiece and pulled out a veritable wad of cash.

   Yuri felt his heart lurch. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever had that much money in his life, and yet Otabek was waving it around like it was nothing. ‘Well, with your first-timer discount - ’ He reached out and took the roll, counting out bills with a delicate touch, maintaining strict eye contact with Otabek. He gauged his reactions as he did it, ready to stop, but after he had counted out nearly double his usual takings, he started to realise that he was not going to stop him. His face hadn’t changed even a little, still wide-eyed and almost vulnerable.

   He could keep going. He didn’t.

   Finally, Otabek nodded. Yuri could tell from his face that he was surprised. It was _lower_ than he had expected. He was regretting stopping already - he should have gone higher - but there was something so innocent about this lonely boy that he just couldn’t bring himself to fleece him.

   ‘It’s not… it’s not much,’ said Otabek.

   ‘It’s more than a lot of people earn working nine to five,’ said Yuri, trying not to feel affronted by his pitying look.

   ‘But your work - ’

   ‘Shh, sweetie,’ said Yuri, putting one gentle finger up to Otabek’s lips. It wasn’t good service to let the client dwell on these things.

   When Otabek had stopped trying to speak, he lowered his finger, tracing it down the Kazakh’s neck to the tightly buttoned collar of his white shirt. He undid the button expertly, almost feeling Otabek’s breath relax as he did so, freed from its prison. Yuri closed his fingers around the collar of the shirt, stepping backwards towards the door leading off the room, which surely had to lead to the bedroom. Otabek allowed himself to be steered, but as he opened the door, he did move one shaking hand to Yuri’s small waist, thumb ghosting over his ribcage.

   Yuri smiled to himself, relieved that Otabek had finally consented to touch him. Some men would paw all over him in an instant; some would take a little more coaxing. But they all eventually succumbed.

   Yuri was good at his job.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m so sorry that this chapter took so long to put up. I wanted to upload it straight after the first but life got in the way and I didn’t want to post it unedited because it was terrible and Otayuri deserve better. Still, the chapter ended up long af so that’s a bonus!  
> I’m so happy that you guys enjoyed the first chapter - thank you so much for your kind comments and all the kudos.  
> This was going to be a two-shot, and that’s completed now, but I did sort of fall in love with them so I might extend it into a chaptered fic if you want to read more.  
> ily all xx

Otabek’s bedroom was very much like Otabek himself: Spartan, and yet strangely homely. The bed was unmade, with a towering stack of papers threatening to fall from its edge.

   ‘S - sorry for the mess.’ As quickly as Otabek had touched him, he released him again, shuffling over to the bed awkwardly and grabbing at the files.

   ‘Do you always bring your work to bed with you?’

   ‘More recently,’ he mumbled.

   ‘Here, here,’ said Yuri, catching Otabek’s hands in his own. They were still trembling a little - _God he was nervous_. Yuri had not planned to spend the night babysitting, but the thought actually made him smile. He was so used to men throwing him around, wanting him to be nothing but their meek sub for the night, that the notion of taking control for a while was enticing.

   He pushed Otabek down to the bed gently, sending a couple of the papers cascading to the floor.

   ‘Don’t worry about them now,’ he said, allowing his hands to trail from Otabek’s hands to his wrists, brushing over the tender skin. He unhooked his cufflinks simultaneously, pushing the sleeves back to expose his forearms.

   He felt the man’s breath speed up even from the gentlest of touches. How long had it been since he had had somebody take care of him? Yuri knew the feeling. He released his arms, busying himself instead over the shirt buttons. He could feel Otabek’s heart pounding.

   He would usually ask the client what they wanted him to do - or rather they would have made it clear by now - but he knew that this one was not going to be forthcoming. He had the sneaking suspicion that Otabek would not even know what he wanted himself. Luckily, Yuri was an expert on what men want.

   He pushed Otabek’s shirt open a little but did not remove it, running his fingertips down over his chest.

   Between the amount of work strewn across his flat and the amount of hours at the gym painted across his body, Yuri was not surprised that this guy didn’t have much time for human interaction. He stroked the lines of the muscled torso, smiling to himself.

   Finally, he worked his fingers to the belt buckle, and he felt Otabek’s breath hitch suddenly.

   ‘Relax,’ he said softly, ‘you’re going to feel good.’

   He knelt himself comfortably between Otabek’s knees, enjoying this view of him, and met his eyes. Otabek nodded slowly, and to his surprise, he reached out his hand to brush the backs of his fingers down Yuri’s face. It was a strange, tender touch that almost made Yuri shiver. Was this what it was like with somebody who cared about you? Would they touch you like that?

   Yuri pushed the thought from his head, tilting his face into Otabek’s hand a little to demonstrate that the touch was welcome.

   He undid the belt swiftly, pulling it from the loops with a sharp movement that caused Otabek to make an involuntary sound.

   With a steadying breath, focusing himself, Yuri began to palm Otabek lightly through the smooth material of the dress pants. He kept his eyes on his face, but Otabek had closed his eyes at the touch. There were still tension lines on his forehead. Yuri ran his free hand over the Kazakh’s thighs, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

   He exhaled a breath that he must have been holding for several seconds when Yuri unbuttoned the pants and manoeuvred his hand over his boxers. Yuri smiled again: he trusted acutely in the ability of his fingers.

   He worked Otabek’s cock through the fabric until it was satisfyingly hard, listening to the change in his breath’s pace.

   Otabek shifted himself a little to allow Yuri to pull down his pants further, giving him better access. He opened his eyes long enough to nod his consent for Yuri to go further.

   When he closed them again, Yuri took the chance to take the bottle of lube from his back pocket - he always came prepared - and slicked his hands a little. He didn’t need to rub his hands together to take off the chill as he usually would. Otabek’s apartment oozed warmth.

   When he freed his cock, Otabek let his head roll back on his shoulders, exposing his severe jaw. Yuri wanted to watch the incredible lines of his face - he could have been carved from marble - but his eyes were drawn instead to his work. He smirked to himself.

   Otabek was big, much bigger than himself. Not that he had received many complaints.

   He closed his hand around the shaft, giving a couple of slow, experimental tugs. Otabek hardened further, letting out a quiet seething sound from between his teeth.

   Yuri focussed his gaze on the large vein that dominated Otabek’s cock - he liked veins.

   ‘Incredible,’ he whispered aloud, in a voice so soft that it did not jar in the silence. Otabek didn’t say anything, but Yuri felt his shaft twitch in his hand at the sound of his voice.

   He started to lengthen his jerks, hand now reaching from base to tip, milking precum from Otabek’s slit. He let out a quiet groan, as though embarrassed that Yuri might hear.

   ‘You can sing for me, my love,’ Yuri said, in a softly sensual voice, trying to remind himself that he was supposed to be _Gabriel_ in these moments, not Yuri.

   Otabek moaned at this.

   Yuri licked his lips, twirling his tongue in his own mouth to summon up some saliva. He lowered his head, planting his palm on Otabek’s knee, and offering a kiss against his aching tip, teasing ever so slightly with his tongue. He was about to open his mouth when Otabek’s hand closed around his wrist.

   He looked up, suddenly alarmed that he had done something wrong. Otabek’s eyes were fixed on him.

   ‘Can I… for you…?’ said Otabek, almost stuttering.

   Yuri processed the words slowly, watching his gaze. When he realised what Otabek wanted, he sat back on his heels, trying to keep the surprise from his expression.

   It wasn’t unusual for clients to want to suck him off. Usually married men. They could get head easily from their wives - close their eyes and pretend it was a boy - but _giving_ it to another man was something that they could not fake; their forbidden fruit. More often than not, they were the same men that wanted him to top them.

   But he hadn’t expected it from this one.

   Usually he was reticent. Often, it was more of a chore than _giving_ head. He had trouble getting it up for the greasy palms and sloppy tongues of men in the alleys, and half of the time they insisted on pursuing it stubbornly until he came. It was an arduous waste of time, and worth next to nothing for him.

   Still, Yuri was nothing if not willing to please, so he shrugged away his hesitation and nodded with the sweetest smile he could muster.

   He prayed that his body would cooperate tonight: he liked this guy.

   Otabek closed his own fingers around the shoulders of Yuri’s tank, pulling him up level with him and pushing him down to the bed. Yuri laid himself backwards, parting his lips a little and searching for an angle that would make himself look appealing from Otabek’s new vantage point.

   Otabek undressed him in slow, deliberate motions, as though following a set of instructions, and his movements were ever so light - ever so careful not to disturb Yuri’s skin. It made Yuri smile. This guy was so cautious to even touch him, and yet in a few minutes he’d be fucking him.

   He closed his eyes when Otabek closed his hand around his cock, his thumb sliding straight over his slit and making the blood rush from Yuri’s head much quicker than he had expected. He let out a soft moan to demonstrate to the client that he should continue.

   He went from semi-hard to aching as soon as Otabek started to work him. Perhaps this boy was more experienced than he had given him credit for.

   When Otabek lowered his head and took him into his mouth, Yuri actually threw his head back against the pillow, exhaling heavily and squeezing his eyes shut more closely.

   Otabek flattened his tongue against the underside of his shaft, dragging it slowly from base to tip. Yuri arched his back upwards, rolling his hips a little to give Otabek better access, and he sucked him steadily, the agile tip of his tongue flicking over the head each time he withdrew.

   Then all too quickly the warmth was gone and light air hit him again, making him twitch for more contact. Yuri whined despite himself, almost forgetting his job for a moment. Otabek had lowered his head further, abandoning his cock to dedicate time to his skin.

   He kissed the tenderness at his inner thighs, giving him a small nip at the skin that made him bite back a cry.

   Oh, Otabek was a _giver_ alright. He had been so nervous to be touched, to expect something from Yuri, and yet the second he was able to give pleasure, he became a different person. Otabek was clearly confident in his ability to make others feel good.

   ‘Please,’ Yuri whispered out into the air, his breath catching in his throat in a genuine gasp when Otabek returned to where he wanted him. ‘Please, I need you,’ he said, and for perhaps the first time in his career, he was only half-acting.

   For once, Yuri was incredibly glad for the extraordinary tolerance he had built up over the years. The Yuri before _this job_ wouldn’t have lasted long with his cock in Otabek’s mouth. But now, he could enjoy this for as long as he needed, and more importantly, for as long as Otabek needed.

   Because Yuri had to keep reminding himself that this was about _Otabek_. He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this. He was supposed to be doing whatever his client needed.

   The thought didn’t stop him moaning into the silence when Otabek returned to his cock and sucked him deeper, until the tip hit the back of his throat.

   ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he groaned, closing one hand around the bed sheet beneath him.

   He chanced opening his eyes for a moment, propping himself up with his free elbow and watching that stoic face turn to something more vulnerable. Otabek looked hotter than before with his cheeks hollowed, his eyes closed in concentration, his thin lips swollen around Yuri.

   A little saliva was sliding from his mouth and running down the exposed part of Yuri’s cock.

   The image was too much. ‘I want you inside me,’ Yuri said, having to bite his lip hard in the middle of his sentence when Otabek slipped his tongue neatly down his slit. ‘Please, Otabek, I need you inside me.’

   He would have happily stayed in this position for the rest of the night, but despite his earlier resolve, Yuri was suddenly acutely aware that he was in serious danger of coming if the Kazakh kept this up. The first rule of his profession was to _never_ come before the client.

   He knew that he should have asked Otabek whether he wanted to top or bottom, but he was having trouble organising his thoughts.

   With a wet noise that smacked around the room, Otabek pulled off him.

   Yuri met his eyes and saw an electricity there which he had not seen before. Both of their breathing was heavy and laboured. Otabek licked his lips slowly, making Yuri swallow several times as he tried to reground himself.

   ‘Are you sure? Is it okay?’ said Otabek, the words almost making Yuri roll his eyes.

   Normally he would say something catty - _what else are you paying me for? -_ but he still couldn’t bring himself to be like that with this guy. Every second that they spent together Gabriel seemed to edge further away, and he felt more and more like _Yuri_. It was dangerous, and dangerous felt sexy.

   Yuri had been exposed physically in every way that it was possible to be exposed, but never before had he felt this exposed _emotionally_ with a client. It was erotic.

   _Dangerous thoughts._

   It made him remember how it felt to have sex for fun.

   ‘I want you to fuck me,’ he said, emphasising each syllable. Otabek was a guy who was going to need constant verbal affirmation, and Yuri was getting impatient.

   Yuri sat up, reaching down to close his fingers around the collar of Otabek’s still open shirt.

   ‘You can… you can top if you want,’ Otabek said nervously, reaching up his thumb to stroke a drop of saliva mixed with precum from his lip. The motion was so distracting that Yuri almost forgot what he had said. ‘I don’t mind… if it’s better for you…’

   Yuri shook his head, trying not to look too perturbed by the thought. He hadn’t spent the afternoon prepping himself only to end up on top. ‘I want _you_.’

   Otabek nodded in response, sitting back on his heels and pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. While he was occupied, Yuri found the pocket of his discarded jeans, pulled out a condom and held it up in front of the client. ‘Non-negotiable,’ he said automatically, as he always did.

   Otabek looked surprised by his forcefulness. ‘Of course, obviously, I would never…’

   Yuri rearranged his face back to friendliness, trying to remember who he was with. This one wasn’t like other clients.

   _Dangerous thoughts._

He leant forwards, ripping open the condom wrapper with his teeth and putting it on Otabek quickly - expertly - before turning over onto his front and bracing his arms under him.

   Otabek didn’t move. _Jesus, do I really have to do everything_? Yuri thought, but there was a smile playing on his lips.

   ‘Can I… can I look at you?’

   Yuri closed his eyes, heart pounding against his chest. He didn’t want to look him in the eyes, because every time he did he felt himself losing his carefully cultivated control.

   He turned back around, looking back to his face and reaching up to lace his fingers into his hair. Their eyes held one another, as though linked by an invisible thread. He pulled Otabek to him, moving his knees wide to allow the Kazakh a place between them.

   With his free hand, he took Otabek’s fingers in his own and guided them down between his legs, smiling reassuringly when Otabek gently stroked around his entrance, his thumb grazing lightly over his perineum.

   It seemed like hours since Otabek’s mouth had been on him, but Yuri was still hard, and so impatient for progress that he actually shifted his himself down a little so that Otabek’s teasing fingers pushed further into him.

Otabek stretched him slowly, though he didn’t need much, turning his preparation into a slow, rhythmic embrace, his breath now hot against Yuri’s neck as he leant down over him, free hand planted beside his head. Yuri was biting his lip, but his breaths broke through in long sighs as he rocked his hips down onto Otabek’s fingers. First two, then three. When he curved his fingers to stroke against his walls, Yuri let out a whine that with anyone else he would have been ashamed of.

   ‘Okay,’ whispered Otabek, sitting back and reaching for the bottle of lube that Yuri had discarded earlier.

   Yuri didn’t need too much of it, but he didn’t mention so, because watching Otabek slick himself up was a show in itself. Any other time, he would have been more than happy to watch Otabek jerk himself off, but the emptiness left by his withdrawn fingers was making him seethe with anticipation. Otabek seemed to sense it, because he soon leant back over his body, and at last slid inside him.

   ‘ _Fuck_ Otabek,’ Yuri groaned, as Otabek pushed all the way inside him, touching the places that fingers could never reach. He was bigger than Yuri was used to, but already he wanted more.

   He ground his hips down against him, urging him harder and deeper, but Otabek seemed determined to take him slowly. Perhaps he thought that he should be gentle.

   But Yuri wasn’t a doll. He might look small, but he wouldn’t break at the slightest touch.

   ‘Harder, baby,’ he said aloud, meeting Otabek’s eyes and trying to impress without further words how much he wanted him.

   Maybe satisfied by Yuri’s impassioned reaction, Otabek finally started to pick up his pace, the room filled with the sound of slapping against his ass. The bed creaked beneath them, knocking back against the wall with each of Otabek’s deeper thrusts.

   Finally he felt the contact against his prostate, and he let out a sharp cry to let Otabek know it.

   _Again. Again. Again._

Yuri tossed his head back with a desperate moan.

And then Otabek had taken Yuri’s cock into his hand again and he was pumping him to the rhythm of their bodies, and Yuri was suddenly acutely aware that -

   ‘Fuck, Otabek, I’m gonna - ’

   The orgasm washed over him like he’d never felt with a client before. He came over his stomach, hard and fast, gasping with every stroke that Otabek gave over his sensitive head, milking every drop from him. His legs were shaking, but he was careful to hold himself steady until Otabek followed him several seconds later with his own expletives, groaning in his beautiful, gruff accent.

   Otabek collapsed over him, breathing heavily against his cheek. Even in his hypersensitive state, Yuri was almost disappointed when he pulled out.

   ‘Fuck, Yuri,’ he said, panting slightly. ‘You’re… you’re amazing.’

   He wasn’t the first person to say it, but he was the first person to say it who made his heart flutter against his ribcage at the praise.

   As though realising that his weight might crush him, Otabek quickly rolled to the side, laying onto his back and pulling off the condom before closing his eyes and exhaling. Their panting in unison was the only sound in the quiet night.

   ‘That was incredible. Thank you.’

   Yuri stayed silent, trying to steady his own breathing, because all of a sudden he felt… _strange_.

   His heart was thudding so hard that he thought it might break through his chest.

   _Never come before the client. Never tell them your real name._

He had broken all his rules, and somewhere down the line he had forgotten that Otabek was still _paying_ for all of this. _He wouldn’t look twice at you in the street,_ Yuri told himself, squeezing his eyes shut. _Don’t get any funny ideas. You’re still just his whore._

Yuri wanted to leave.

   Because he didn’t want to leave.

   _Dangerous thoughts._

   He was scared that if he spent a moment longer watching Otabek’s face soften on the pillow, he might not be able to drag himself away.

   He couldn’t let himself get attached.

   Otabek wasn’t his boyfriend. He sat up, trying to make his movements business-like, and reached for his jeans. Usually he would want to clean himself up first, but he couldn’t risk staying any longer. Besides, it would hardly be the first time he’d made it home with dried cum on him. He could deal with it later.

   ‘You’re going already?’ said Otabek, and his voice sounded so sad that Yuri stopped, closing his eyes to remind himself of everything he had just thought.

   ‘I…’ he looked back, not meeting Otabek’s eyes. The concern there threatened to make his heart hurt. The part of his brain that wanted to stay in the bed forever was pushing its way to the forefront. After all, Otabek _had_ paid him pretty well - _it would be rude to leave so soon_. ‘No… I just…’ he cleared his throat. ‘Can I use your phone for two seconds?’

   Otabek smiled with relief. ‘Yeah, sure, it’s in the kitchen.’

   Yuri skipped out of the room, pulling up his jeans as he went and cursing his own weak will. He punched in Anastacia’s number, waiting seven rings before she finally picked up.

*

   Otabek watched him from the door, putting on a pair of grey gym pants as he listened. He didn’t mean to be so intrusive, but he couldn’t help watching this man. He’d known him perhaps only a couple of hours, but he was one-hundred per-cent sure that he had never met anyone else quite like Yuri.

   He was brash, ballsy, and yet, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, so vulnerable that Otabek wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and promise him that he’d never have to go back out onto those streets again. He swallowed the thought away. This was Yuri’s job. He wasn’t Otabek’s boyfriend. He was here because Otabek was paying him, not because he _liked_ him.

   He couldn’t let himself get attached.

   ‘Yeah, I just got home. I’m safe. I had a client. Yeah, it was fine.’

   Otabek closed his eyes at the words, trying not to feel hurt by Yuri’s bluntness. There could be any number of reasons why he’d decided on the word _fine_. What if he was calling his _real_ partner? But why would he be lying?

   ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

   Yuri put down the phone, and Otabek straightened up a little. Before he could move away from the door, Yuri had turned to look at him. ‘I… I wasn’t listening,’ he said, stuttering.

   ‘Don’t worry,’ said Yuri, crossing back over to him. ‘I just needed to let my friend know I was okay. Safety measures come with the job.’

   He had such a sad smile that Otabek was sure he felt his heart break at that very second. That this was even necessary made Otabek clench his fist at his side. Already, the thought of somebody trying to hurt Yuri made his blood run hot.

   _Too attached_ , he reminded himself.

   ‘Come on,’ said Yuri, taking his hand and leading him back to the bed.

   They climbed under the sheets this time, and Yuri rolled over immediately to rest his head against Otabek’s chest. Otabek wondered whether he could feel how hard his heart was beating.

   He wanted to watch Yuri’s face forever. The sweet elfin features - the mess of blond hair - the way he twisted his head to find the most comfortable position. He tried to push tiredness to the back of his mind, wanting to concentrate, but something about lying with Yuri like this seemed to make his body more comfortable than ever. His eyes kept drooping.

   Otabek didn’t know at what point he fell asleep, but he woke up when Yuri was halfway to the door, blinking his eyes in the sudden light of the room. The sun had come up.

   Yuri turned to look at him, and Otabek saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t want to wake you.’

   ‘When can I see you again?’ Otabek blurted out before he could stop himself, because his filter wasn’t functioning yet and it was the only thing he could think about.

   Yuri lowered his eyes, and Otabek felt his heart sink. What was he thinking? This wasn’t the end of a _date_.

   The question hung prone in the air.

   After a silence that seemed to stretch for hours, but which could only have been a few seconds, Yuri shrugged, picking up his small, sad smile once again. ‘That’s up to you. You know where to find me.’

   It wasn’t the answer Otabek had imagined, but it was enough.

   Because even if he had to pay for it, Yuri’s time was enough.

   He watched as Yuri walked out the door with a small wave. He only sat upright when he heard Yuri call back over his shoulder.

   ‘See you next time, Beka.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I guess you could say I got too attached to them, so this might end up being extended into further chapters if anyone wants it. I hope that you enjoyed reading ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all so much for your response to the last chapter, I was honestly so overwhelmed by your appreciation. Your comments were beyond kind - I just had to keep going!  
> So as of now, this fic is chaptered! This chapter is slightly shorter than usual (it’s light on actual Otayuri) but with the change in structure there were some loose threads I needed to tie up, and some new ones to be opened!  
> I’ve gone through some planning and I think I’ve got an idea of we’re going now - we’ll get there together.  
> xx

When Yuri arrived home, his roommate was slouched back on the partially collapsed couch, joint dangling precariously from his lips, hands occupied with rolling a replacement.

   ‘Hey, buddy!’

   Yuri looked over to him with what he was sure was an expression of distaste. He wasn’t Milo’s _buddy_. In fact, Yuri wouldn’t consider himself anyone’s _buddy._ He avoided friendship for the same reason as he avoided romance: it always wound up hurting too much. ‘Hi, Milo,’ he said awkwardly. He was acutely aware of the stack of paper bills in his backpack, which he had retrieved on his way home, and while he was fairly certain that Milo had never tried to steal from him, he still didn’t particularly like carrying it around.

   ‘So… uh…’

   Right, so he wanted to talk. Maybe that was why he’d settled on _buddy_. He wanted to get Yuri on side for something. ‘What?’

   ‘So you know rent is due next week.’

   ‘Yeah. What of it?’

   ‘Are you good for it?’

   ‘Of course,’ Yuri shrugged. No matter how bad work got, he never missed a payment. He always found a way, because he didn’t like being indebted to people. Apparently, the same could not be said for Milo.

   ‘Right. It’s just… I’m having a bit of a slow month. I’m not sure I’m gonna be… so like… could you maybe front me?’

   ‘How much down are you?’ said Yuri, his face flat.

   ‘Uh… like maybe half…’

   Yuri shifted his weight from one foot to the other, surveying Milo with narrowed eyes. ‘Yeah. Fine.’

   ‘For real man? You’re a lifesaver, I - ’

   ‘I’m going to bed,’ said Yuri, cutting him off.

   ‘You know, bro, if you showed our landlord a good time one night, I reckon he’d cut our rent in half.’

   ‘Don’t push it, Milo.’

   ‘ _What_?’ he said defensively. ‘That’s what you do, isn’t it?’

   ‘I fuck for money, not favours, Milo. Now I seriously need to sleep. Some of us have actually been working all night.’

   He stalked away, kicking his bag under his bed and throwing himself down onto the mattress. The money could wait. He’d take it to his deposit box later.

   Yuri had never quite been able to institute the rule: _don’t shit where you eat_ , into his life. After all, when fucking was your job, avoiding sex at work was kind of… difficult. Instead, he had embraced its fundamental ethos early on by flipping it entirely on its head and avoiding any and all sex _outside_ work. He didn’t like to bring that side of himself into his _real life._

   Not that it was much of a life these days.

   What was the point in the work if all it got him was a one-room basement flat that always stank of his roommate’s weed?

   He nudged off his shoes, reaching down to draw his blanket up over himself.

   He was tired. Not only because he had forced himself to stay awake the entire time at the apartment - falling asleep in a client’s room was deeply unprofessional - but he also felt mentally _drained_.

   It had been a long time since a shift had taken it out of him like that.

   Sex had ceased to be emotionally taxing somewhere around his second month on the job.

   But now…

   He turned his face down into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to erase the image of Otabek from his mind.

   He couldn’t help wondering when he’d be back for seconds.

_Why do you care?_

_He pays well_ , Yuri told himself, though he knew it was a lie.

   It would be safer to move to another street, to never risk going back to the place that Otabek had found him. It was too dangerous. The strange feeling low in his stomach when he thought about the stoic Kazakh was a considerable threat to his carefully cultivated work-life balance. But telling himself this was pointless, because there was absolutely no chance that he wasn’t going back to that very spot tonight.

   If Otabek was the poison, Yuri was ready to drain it dry like water in the desert.

*

His sleep was uneasy, and after barely three hours he was already on his feet again, stalking around the room with an air as though it had personally offended him.

   He kicked the fridge _hard_ when he found that it was empty again, and threw his own clothes unceremoniously to the floor before showering.

   The water was only lukewarm and the pressure little more than a steady drip, but Yuri scrubbed himself with enough fervour to make up for it. He was suddenly very conscious that he could smell Otabek on himself. Whether or not it was his imagination, he was furious to remove any and all trace of him from his skin. It was a reminder of the mistake he already knew he was going to make tonight.

   _Don’t see him again_.

   He dressed quickly in the oversized clothes that made up his daytime wardrobe - an old, torn sweater, a hoodie that dropped almost to his knees, and scarf long enough to wrap around his shoulders several times. Yuri liked to look as small as possible during the day - it made less people notice him - and almost always covered most of his face, in order to avoid any awkward encounters with old clients recognising him.

   He pulled a baseball cap low over his eyes before exiting the building.

   Yuri did not have a bank account. He did not like the paperwork. Instead, he rented a medium sized safe deposit box in the lower security section of a city bank, just a short metro ride away.

   He kept enough cash in his bag for the rent, taking out a little extra for Milo’s share, and several bills for something to eat, then locked the rest away. Each time he visited he planned to start putting a section aside for emergency savings, but somehow he always ended up withdrawing it all. Every other week seemed to be some sort of emergency.

   On the way back to the station, something caught his eye across the road.

   Central Street Bank.

   Or what had been Central Street Bank.

   The building had been flattened several weeks earlier, and now a number of workmen were wandering around the sight, surveying the new foundations.

   Yuri watched curiously for a moment.

   _Otabek’s project._

   Quickly, he turned, pulling his cap low over his eyes. There was next to no chance of the architect being there at that very moment, but Yuri sped up his paces, half-running to the station. He shook himself back to sensibility on the train, earning a few nervous looks from the seated travellers. He needed to stop thinking about this guy every five seconds. He might never even see him again.

   Perhaps he would never come back. A lot of clients didn’t.

   The thought made him feel hollow inside.

*

 _Fuck_ Rustam, and _fuck_ his fucking terrible advice.

   Otabek was halfway drunk, bottle wobbling above the tumbler to pour another.  

   He had stood up and walked to the door five separate times before starting on the drink - that way he wouldn’t be able to drive.

   Last night was supposed to make things easier. He was supposed to blow off some steam, release some pent up tension, and move on. He wasn’t supposed to wind up thinking every ten seconds about some boy he hardly knew and could never have.

   _Don’t go back_.

   He had started by telling himself this, and then phoned his brother to confirm that it was definitely the better option. Rustam had assured him that it was just a side-effect of feeling lonely for too long - that it would wear off after a couple of days. So Otabek had locked himself away in his apartment, started on the drink, and vowed not to think about _him_ anymore.

   So why, half a bottle later, was the same face still swimming into his vision?

   _I should have asked him to stay_ , he thought, actually groaning out loud.

   _No, no you shouldn’t._

He knew that Rustam was right, that he was just getting overly attached to the first person who had offered him physical contact in weeks. That was what people in Yuri’s profession _did_. If anything, Yuri probably found people like him disgusting.

   It wasn’t real.

   But it had felt real.

*

   And so the first night passed drunk.

   The second, hungover.

   The third, sober.

   After that, Otabek concluded that the ‘couple of days’ had definitely passed and the feeling had gone nowhere. If anything, the magnetic pull to the alleyway had seemed to grow stronger and stronger.

   So, by the fourth night, he was in his car.

   _Fuck it_.

   He crawled around the streets, searching for the one that he would recognise, eyes focussed out the window.

   _This road._ This was the one.

   He turned down the street, searching the darkness.

   He knew, almost before he had started, that Yuri was not there. It was like he could sense it.

   A little further down than where he had stopped the first time stood a woman, lighting a cigarette. She was blonde, small, and not at all dressed for the weather. She reminded him so much of Yuri.

   Despite what he had reassured his parents, who held onto the prayer that he would eventually settle down with a woman, she was definitely, _definitely_ not his type. And she wasn’t Yuri.

   He accelerated quickly, looking the other way and trying to stop his hands shaking on the wheel.

   When he found his way back to the main road, he did not look back.

   Yuri wasn’t there.

   He had missed his chance.

*

It was on the third night that he drove down that same road that he finally saw him.

   The drive had become a ritual, a part of his day that he planned in advance. Each day that had passed without a glimpse of the eyes he sought sent his heart lower and lower until he was sure it was somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He had started trawling the news, even though he knew it was irrational, in case anyone knew anything about a streetwalker who seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth.

   But finally, he was there.

   At first, he thought that maybe he had mistaken the woman for Yuri, as he had the previous night under the strange street-lighting, but he was _sure_ this time.

   He pulled the car to a halt and the blond head turned.

   _Yuri_.

   He seemed to hesitate, hovering between two futures, before taking a step towards the car.

   Otabek leant over to open the door, the car’s internal lights coming to life. He took every moment to absorb Yuri’s face again. He’d been starting to wonder whether the whole thing had been a crazy fever dream, but Yuri was real. He was corporeal, solid, and even more beautiful that he had remembered.

   ‘Hi, Otabek,’ he said, sliding down onto the leather and closing the door.

   ‘Hello, Yuri.’

   There was a tension in the air. Had it been like that the first time? Otabek couldn’t remember.

   ‘I thought you’d gone,’ he blurted out, before he could stop himself.

   Yuri turned to look at him, eyes narrowed a little. ‘I’ve been here,’ he said.

   ‘I came back looking for you every night, but I couldn’t find you.’

   ‘You must’ve come when I was… busy…’ he trailed off awkwardly, picking at the skin on his fingers.

   A strange feeling started to simmer in Otabek’s stomach when he realised what Yuri meant. He felt… possessive. All of a sudden, the thought of other men with their hands on Yuri made him clench his fingers around the steering wheel. He knew that he had no right to feel that way, but it didn’t help the muscle working in his jaw.

   Yuri wasn’t _his_.

*

   When a silence fell in the car, Yuri took to looking out of the window. He didn’t want Otabek to see the look in his eyes. No matter how well-trained he was at hiding his emotions, Yuri knew that his eyes always betrayed him.

   He didn’t want Otabek to know.

   He didn’t want him to know that he knew he was lying. He _knew_ that Otabek hadn’t come back looking for him _every night_ , because for the first three nights after they had met, Yuri had stood on that sidewalk for hours.

   He had turned down countless clients - he had nigh near frozen his fingers off - waiting for the car that hadn’t come.

   It had been stupid.

   On the fourth night, he’d returned to work, his clients more than happy to find that he was back to full time hours.

   Maybe climbing into the car tonight was stupid too.

   Still, he had never been known for his good decisions.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow you guys, this got a lot of love! I’m sorry it’s been a while, but things have been hard. Thank you so much to all of you who leave kudos and comment, your kind words always push me to write the next chapter xx

The ride was awkward, long, and almost proof enough that Yuri had been right in the first place: he never should have agreed to see this guy again. His heart was pounding at triple speed against his chest, acutely aware of every slight movement of Otabek’s hand towards the gearshift. It was as though his actions affected the very air around them.

   ‘I’m sorry I missed you,’ Yuri offered eventually, noticing that Otabek’s fingers were closed very tightly around the wheel. ‘I promise I wasn’t avoiding you.’ He wanted it to sound coy, maybe even a little playful, but it fell flat in the cold atmosphere.

   Otabek sighed, turning to look at him. ‘Just my bad luck,’ he said, with what Yuri suspected was supposed to be a reassuring smile.

   It almost worked. Yuri settled back in the seat, eyeing the client out of the corner of his eye. Feeling that he could chance a little cheek, he reached out to switch on the radio, playing around with some of the toggles until he found a station playing something worth listening to. He could feel Otabek’s eyes on him, but he didn’t meet them.

   When he sat back again, glancing sideways, he saw that Otabek was smiling to himself.

   Yuri recognised the last couple of streets from the previous time, and was already set to open his own door again when the car pulled up in the lot. He needed to stay in control.

   Winter had tightened its grip a little over the last couple of nights, a definite frost hovering in the air whenever night fell now. Yuri automatically crossed his arms, fingers rubbing up and down over his skin to try to create some friction.

   He always kept his hands soft, bathed in moisturisers - his clients liked it that way. More than once he had been complimented on his small, delicate, almost feminine hands.

   Distracted though he was by the cold air, he didn’t miss Otabek’s slight step towards him, arm reaching out as though to wrap around his shoulders. He seemed to think better of it, quickly dropping his hand and fumbling for his keys instead.

   The shyer clients almost made Yuri laugh. They were always so afraid, so reticent to touch him. Until he undressed, of course, and then he could not rid himself of their rough hands.

   _Not Otabek,_ he thought, as they headed into the apartment block. Otabek had touched him with the caution and care of a historian handling priceless antiques.

   ‘How have you… been?’ Otabek said in the lift, surprising Yuri a little.

   ‘Fine,’ Yuri shrugged, wondering whether he should try to act at least somewhat sensual this time. _No_ , he had the sneaking suspicion that Otabek had seen right through Gabriel the second they had met. If not, the pin must have dropped when Yuri had blabbed down his phone about _safety measures_. Otabek knew that this was Yuri’s job, and nothing more.

   Except Yuri himself was starting to wonder whether ‘ _nothing more_ ’ was true at all.

   ‘It’s getting colder, isn’t it?’ he said, realising that ‘ _fine_ ’ might have been a little _too_ blunt.

   Otabek smiled. ‘Yeah. There’ll be snow soon.’

   Maybe Otabek was a fan of the _boyfriend experie_ nce _._ Yuri usually hated talking to clients, feigning interest in their lives, but the words seemed to come easily in Otabek’s presence. He didn’t even have to calculate them in his head before opening his mouth each time. ‘I don’t like snow so much.’

   ‘Really?’ Otabek raised his eyebrows, walking half-backwards down the hallway towards the apartment so that he could continue talking. ‘I think the world is most beautiful in the snow.’

   ‘I think the world is the most grey in the snow,’ Yuri muttered. Grey sky, grey slush on the streets, greying skin when he couldn’t afford proper groceries and he’d spent too long out in the bitter cold.

   ‘Do you… go out to work… when it’s like that?’

   Had Otabek read his mind again? Yuri constructed a smile. ‘All weathers.’

   ‘You should be careful. You don’t want to get sick.’

   Yuri almost stopped dead in his tracks. The defensive part of his brain wanted to rear up, to snap that he was a grown man with infinitely more real-world experience that Otabek, who could _take care of himself_! But that part of his brain was losing to the ever-growing part that softened whenever this _damn_ guy showed him an ounce of care.

   Deciding to hedge his bets somewhere between the two, Yuri jutted his chin out, wishing that he was taller as he caught up with Otabek and stood before him. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’

   ‘I can imagine,’ Otabek said, almost breathily. He stared at Yuri for so long then, the two of them stood outside his front door, that Yuri started to feel self-conscious, like he had something on his face that no one had told him about. ‘You have strength in your eyes.’

   Yuri swallowed, before negotiating his fingers around Otabek’s to unhook the keys, opening the door himself. He needed to turn away, after all, before the client noticed the furious flush in his cheeks.

   ‘You tidied up,’ he remarked, relaxing the loaded tension that had settled over them after Otabek’s last words.

   ‘Well, you know, I thought since I was having company…’

   ‘Company? Is that what I am? I’ve never been called _company_ before. You’re making me feel fancy,’ Yuri said playfully, finally starting to relax. Perhaps it was the familiar environment. Perhaps it was the familiar client. He turned 360 on the balls of his feet to look around the apartment.

   ‘Can I get you a drink?’ said Otabek, and he looked happier than Yuri had seen him yet.

   ‘I don’t drink on the job,’ said Yuri, sitting down on the sofa, which had been fully cleared since the last time he had been here. He didn’t add the explanation - _because things can get dangerous with substances involved, however weak the substance_. Some things, Otabek didn’t need to know.

   ‘I have soft drinks too. You can have water, or tea or coffee, or I could make you a virgin cocktail.’

‘Oh…’ Yuri cocked his head sideways. A client had never offered him anything other than alcohol. Then his lips curved up into a smile. ‘I don’t think I’m really suited to virgin-anything.’ He felt light, airy and spirited, but not like Gabriel. This was a _Yuri_ that he never brought to work with him. It was a _Yuri_ that he barely even brought out at home these days.

   Otabek seemed torn between a smile and his usual stoic focus.

   ‘So you can make cocktails?’ Yuri continued. ‘That’s sexy. If I could drink right now, you know that would really turn me on.’

   ‘You’re in a good mood.’

   Yuri almost blushed again. He needed to keep in control. Clients shouldn’t get to know his _moods_. _Gabriel_ had one mood only, and it was _seductive_. He could hardly tell Otabek that no matter how much he told himself it was wrong, his week had grown dramatically better when he’d seen that car pull down the street. ‘I’m full of surprises.’

   ‘Let me surprise you,’ Otabek said, opening his fridge and rummaging inside.

   Yuri glanced around, eyes settling on the elegant silver box on the mantelpiece, from which Otabek had withdrawn his wads of cash last time. He swallowed, reminding himself that he was on the job, not out for a jaunt. ‘You know, if this is part of the… I have to include this in your time.’ Yuri didn’t stutter, _ever_ , and yet here he was, scrambling to get the words out as quickly as possible, a desperate reminder to himself to remain business-like.

   When he saw Otabek’s face, he wished he hadn’t said it. It was only a flash, before the Kazakh reconstructed his expression into a less pained one. ‘Oh… um… of course.’

   He left the kitchen, walking over to the box and opening it. He pulled out a stack of notes, holding it out to Yuri without counting. ‘Does this cover the night?’

   Yuri stared, mouth dry. ‘Yeah, it’s… yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to kill the mood.’ He shouldn’t be defending himself, but the words kept coming.

   Otabek shook his head. ‘No, you’re absolutely right. I should have done this as soon as we got in, I forgot. I’d never… I’d never expect your time for free. I’m sorry. I bet some guys…’

   This guy had a serious case of _the_ _guilts_. It wasn’t unusual, but in Yuri’s experience it usually came from a place of self-absorption and projection. Otabek, on the other hand, seemed genuinely interested in his welfare.

   It was unsettling, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

   ‘Where’s this cocktail then?’ Yuri smiled, putting the cash down on the table.

   As he watched Otabek work, he wondered whether this was what it was like for pretentious-ass- _escorts_. He’d been a streetwalker since day one - he’d always derided his distant colleagues, who claimed to have it so _good_ \- but now he was starting to get a taste of what their job might be like. For a moment, he allowed his mind to wander even further: how would it feel to work for Otabek _only_ … to never step out on the street again, to be bought nice things and given slabs of cash like this on the regular, in return for the one thing he knew he was brilliant at.

   _Sex_ , he reminded himself, as Otabek walked over, two mugs in hand. _You’re good at sex, don’t get ideas above your station._

‘Here you go,’ Otabek held out one of the cups.

   Yuri took it, examining it carefully. He didn’t really know anything about cocktails - his expertise extended little further than cheap vodka - but he was fairly sure they were usually served in glasses. Instead, this cup was mug-like, in polished copper.

   ‘What is it?’ he asked, touching the tip of his tongue to one of the small chunks of ice floating at the surface.

   ‘Guess,’ said Otabek, still looking more relaxed than Yuri had seen him thus far. Apparently he was less socially incompetent than Yuri had given him credit for - maybe it was just paying for sex that made him uncomfortable. He wouldn’t be the first.

   Yuri took several sips of the drink, licking his lips. ‘Fruit,’ he said, ‘and something fizzy.’

   Otabek was positively beaming at him, the corners of his rectangular eyes crinkling. ‘What fruit?’

   ‘Mango,’ Yuri said, with complete confidence.

   ‘Very good,’ Otabek replied, looking genuinely impressed. ‘It’s a mango mule.’

   Yuri took another drink, allowing the sweetness to settle on his lips before smiling. ‘Do you want a taste?’

   ‘Is it okay to kiss you?’

‘Of course.’ _That’s what you’re paying me for._

   ‘I thought maybe… some people like you, I heard they don’t…’

   Yuri laughed, a sound that seemed almost unfamiliar coming from him. ‘You’ve been watching too many movies.’

   He leaned across the sofa, fingertips trailing down Otabek’s side and settling on his thigh. He felt Otabek tense a little under his touch, but he seemed to relax after a second, allowing the smaller man to shift his weight over him until their lips were a centimetre apart.

   ‘Is it okay if _I_ kiss _you_?’ Yuri asked.

   Otabek reached up to graze his fingertips along Yuri’s jaw, with just enough pressure to close the distance, bringing their lips to touch.

   It was tender, so tender than Yuri felt a strange feeling in his abdomen, an unfamiliar spread of warmth, borne not from arousal, but from much higher, as though his heart was sending a message to the rest of his body. The feeling was so unfamiliar, and so goddamn dangerous, that he broke away quickly, lowering his head down so that his forehead nestled over Otabek’s shoulder.

   It was a gesture that could have been sensual, his breath fast and warm against Otabek’s collarbone, but really it gave him a moment to think. He needed to ground himself. He needed to remind himself where he was.

   _Who_ he was.

   ‘So what do you want to do with me tonight?’ he said, in a voice that sounded like it didn’t belong to him. He couldn’t bear to look up - he didn’t want to see how Otabek was looking at him.

   He shifted his body until he could straddle Otabek’s lap, both hands now against his chest, and traced his tongue along that clavicle, exposed by Otabek’s open collar. He kissed one - two - three along the fragile bone, inhaling the strong, masculine cologne that lingered there.

   ‘What do you want to do?’

   He finally looked up at this, shaking his head to allow as much of his long, blond hair to fall over his eyes as possible. He felt more shy than he had since he was a kid.

   Otabek’s gentle, brown eyes watched him. Yuri could see that he meant it. He really wanted to know - he wanted to know what _Yuri_ wanted.

   As they sat, caught in each other’s eyes, he found himself asking a question that he had never even considered on the job before: what _did_ he want to do? What did Yuri Plisetsky really want?

   The answer edged its way slowly into focus, lingering in the forefront of his mind.

   He wanted Otabek.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey angels, an update is here! Thank you so much to you guys who commented on the last chapter, especially those of you who have been reading since I posted Chapter 1 - you guys are the sweetest ^_^

   Half an hour later found Yuri riding Otabek with more enthusiasm than he had ever ridden a client in his life.

   ‘ _Fuck_ , Otabek,’ he groaned, running his free hand through his mess of blond hair as he looked down at his favourite customer.

   It was their third position of the session - all Yuri’s selections of course - but it was this old faithful that had moans slipping out from deep in his throat.

   Yuri liked being in control, and this position gave him exactly that. He did most of the work himself, one palm flat against Otabek’s chest to keep him on his back, and he rolled his own hips, setting a smooth rhythm to keep himself close to the edge for as long as possible.

   Their breaths, the pornographic slap of skin on skin, and the steady creak of Otabek’s bedstead, were the only sounds in the late night. No partying at this apartment block - no couple throwing plates at each other’s heads in a furious screaming match two floors up. Otabek and Yuri could have been the only people in the entire world.

   ‘Can I touch you?’

   Yuri gave a sound that meant _yes_ , free hand running from his hair down to his chest, rolling the bud of one hard nipple between his fingertips. He didn’t take his eyes off Otabek’s, bottom lip caught tightly between his teeth.

   Otabek took Yuri’s cock in his palm, swollen pink and pretty against his own strong, tan hand.

   ‘God, you’re perfect,’ Otabek sighed, tracing his other hand up and down Yuri’s thigh.

   He gave him a few slower, experimental tugs, before slipping into a rhythm with Yuri’s motions, hand covering him easily, lubricated by the extent of Yuri’s arousal, which had been leaking since the moment they’d started. He moaned, bucking his hips forwards into Otabek’s hand and disrupting the rhythm ever so slightly.

   ‘Please, Beka,’ he mewled, throwing his head back, as Otabek negotiated his hand to thumb teasingly over his slit, giving dizzying attention to the head, made so painfully sensitive by Yuri’s self-inflicted edging.

   He came hard, painting Otabek’s chiselled navel, with high, borderline-embarrassing gasps. His body clenched down automatically around Otabek’s cock, driving Otabek to sit up, hands claiming Yuri’s hips now. He pounded Yuri down around himself as though he weighed nothing, putty in his hands, and the smaller cried out, burying his face into the crook of his neck as the oversensitivity threatened to become overwhelming.

   But Otabek came fast enough, Yuri’s name chasing around his tongue, and they collapsed together into a heap on the twisted sheets, both panting.

   ‘Thanks,’ Otabek exhaled, wiping his abs down with a tissue grabbed from the nightstand.

   ‘You don’t have to say thank you every time,’ Yuri smiled, stretching up over him to engage in a long, languid kiss.

   It was sloppy, both of them still breathing heavily, and extraordinarily self-indulgent. There was no reason for it that Yuri could chalk up to business - he really just wanted to kiss him.

   ‘Every time…’ Otabek mused, stroking his fingers through Yuri’s hair. ‘There’s going to be more times? How can I make sure I catch you?’

   Yuri smiled, grazing his nails down Otabek’s chest just hard enough to leave a light mark. ‘I usually go to work at eleven. Most… people… don’t start showing up til much later than that. So I’ll probably be around then.’

   ‘Good. I’ll put it in my diary.’

   ‘Friday: Fuck Yuri. Eleven o’clock.’

   ‘I have to wait til Friday?’ Otabek said with a smile, pausing in his twisting of Yuri’s hair.

   ‘We’ll see. I might have somewhere incredibly important to be every other day.’

   As he said it, he couldn’t kick the thought that in his present, sexed-out state of euphoria, there was nowhere that seemed as important as Otabek’s bed. He knew it was a bad thing - he’d regret his own poor willpower in the morning - but for now, self-indulgence was permissible.

   He tilted his head up, eager to steal another kiss.

*

   If there was a moment at work where Otabek wasn’t thinking about Yuri, it got lost amongst the moments where he _was_.

   ‘Hey, Otabek, the council want an updated copy of the plans. Do you think you could fax them over?’

   ‘Huh?’ Otabek looked up to his open office door in surprise. He had been staring out of the window for at least fifteen minutes, imagining that every tiny walking figure might be Yuri.

   ‘Council. Bank plans. Fax them,’ said Viktor, leaning against the doorframe. ‘What’s got you all dreamy eyed?’

   ‘Nothing,’ Otabek said, clearing his throat. ‘Sure, I’ll deal with the council.’

   Much to his chagrin, Viktor stepped inside rather than outside, closing the door behind him with a knowing smile. ‘Something’s on your mind. Or should I say… someone?’

   ‘What? No. No one’s on my mind.’

   ‘Oh come on, Otabek, you can tell me. Have you got yourself a guy? Or a girl? Far be it for me to make assumptions…’ he smirked.

   ‘ _No_. And… _God_ no.’

   ‘Hmm. Well, tell him to clear his schedule because I just booked the venue for Yuuri’s promotion celebration.’

   Otabek’s head snapped up at the name. ‘Oh, oh yeah. I mean no, there’s no _guy_.’

   ‘Well he’s invited. Four weeks today. Be there or be dead.’

   ‘Thanks for the heads up,’ Otabek sighed.

   ‘Don’t forget the plans,’ Viktor said with a wink, twirling out of the room with a remarkable amount of grace.

   He left the door open, so Otabek stood up to close it with a little more force than necessary, before pacing back and forth in front of his desk.

   The thought of showing up to Viktor and Yuuri’s party with Yuri on his arm was… appealing. He tried to imagine the looks on all of his work-friends’ faces if he walked in with the prettiest boy in the room. He was fairly sure they all assumed he was completely aromantic - certainly none of them had ever seen him _with_ someone.

   He closed his eyes, thinking hard.

   _No_ , he couldn’t show up to his colleague’s boyfriend’s party with an escort. Or he could he?

   Did Yuri even do that kind of thing?

   Otabek had a creeping suspicion that it wasn’t something he considered under his job description. But still… it wouldn’t hurt to ask… even if he would never, _ever_ , hear the end of it from Viktor.

*

   One week later, Otabek decided to test the waters.

   It was a question that Yuri had been starting to expect for a while, but he had pushed the notion to the very back of his mind because he had concluded early on that he would rather not think about it.

   He also would have preferred it if Otabek hadn’t have asked while they were naked in bed, but apparently that couldn’t be helped. _Still_ , _he could have had worse timing_ , Yuri thought: _he could have asked when I had his cock in my mouth._

‘Can I take you somewhere?’

   Yuri didn’t move, keeping his cheek flush against Otabek’s bare chest.

   It had been their third _liaison_ so far this week. Yuri was starting to think that they were going to end up _exclusive_.

   ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,’ Otabek said quickly. ‘Forget I said anything.’

   Yuri’s lips turned up in a small, wry smile. He had barely given him time to answer. ‘Take me where?’ he said, trying to keep his breathing steady, because he was sure Otabek would be able to feel it against his skin.

   Otabek seemed surprised by this - perhaps he hadn’t expected Yuri to entertain the idea. ‘I… I don’t know. Where do people go?’

   ‘With prostitutes? Hotels usually,’ Yuri said, lifting a finger to stroke down his chest. He started to draw small, repetitive circles across Otabek’s ribcage with his fingertip.

   ‘No, I mean people… like when they go out.’

   ‘You want me to go _out_ with you?’

   ‘Yes.’

   Yuri sat up, looking down at him with curious, wary eyes. ‘ _Out_ where?’

   ‘I don’t know.’

   This was turning into a conversation so circular that Yuri wanted to roll his eyes, but he refrained, if only because Otabek looked so anxious. ‘Let me get this clear - you want to take me _out_? Like you want us to go somewhere for purposes other than you fucking me?’

   The bluntness of his statement made the tips of Otabek’s ears redden.

   ‘Just so I know where we stand?’

   ‘Er… yeah. Yeah I guess so.’

   ‘Well you’re the one that asked me. Is that what you mean or not?’

   ‘Yes.’

   Yuri smiled, lifting one leg over Otabek’s body so that he could straddle his waist, settling his weight back onto his thighs. ‘Okay, fun. I like plush kitties, pirozhki, and rock music. Make of that what you will. I can do any day - I don’t work in the daytime, as you know - but I like to catch up on sleep in the mornings, so don’t expect me before midday. Oh, and don’t take me anywhere fancy because I don’t have the right clothes and people will know you’re bringing a whore.’

   Otabek stared at him, mouth slightly open, then slid his hands gently up Yuri’s thighs. ‘I don’t like that word,’ he said, after a long silence.

   Yuri rolled his eyes. ‘That’s what I am. If you’re going to take me out, you need to remember that.’

   ‘You’re not a whore, you just sell sex for money. People only give you that name to try to degrade you.’

   Yuri cocked his head to the side. He thought that he was being silly, but he was willing to humour him if only to make Otabek feel better about himself. ‘I don’t understand.’

   ‘Everyone else sells themselves for money. Labourers sell their bodies, artists sell their hands, I sell my mind. It’s no different. But people want to have power over you, so they put you in this separate box where they can put you down.’

‘You say the strangest things sometimes,’ Yuri said, but there was a lump taking shape in his throat. He looked away quickly, because looking into Otabek’s eyes was making the feeling worse, and he was suddenly nervous. He wasn’t sure exactly how the unfamiliar sensation was going to play out.

   ‘I just don’t want you to think that your job means you can’t go places… you have just as much right to go to _fancy_ places as anyone else. I don’t want you to worry about what people think of you.’

   ‘I don’t,’ Yuri said, jutting out his chin. The effect was ruined a little as he swallowed, still trying to dislodge the lump. ‘I just don’t think semantics are that big of a deal. I’m fine with _whore_. And that’s my choice.’

   ‘Right, of course. I didn’t mean to try and control you. I’m sorry. This is new to me.’

   Yuri felt slightly guilty, but he was determined to stand by his words. Otabek didn’t have the right to tell him how to feel, even if he had the best intentions. ‘I just…’ he faltered. ‘It’s my life, okay? My words.’

   ‘Okay. I understand.’

   Yuri rolled off him, laying back into the comfortable pillows. ‘So, what day do you want to go out?’

   ‘How about Saturday?’

   ‘Sure. Where shall I meet you?’

   ‘I can pick you up.’

‘No,’ Yuri said automatically. The thought of Otabek seeing his apartment block, or even worse his _apartment_ itself, sent a plummeting sensation to his stomach. It was only as he went on to justify himself that he realised he was doing exactly what Otabek had just told him not to: worrying about what someone thought of him. ‘It’s just… safety, and all that. I have to keep my place…’

   ‘How about the central metro station? I remember you said one time that you usually take the metro.’

   ‘Okay,’ Yuri smiled, more comfortable with this suggestion.

   After a moment of separation, the air still tinged with their almost-argument, they finally negotiated themselves back together, Yuri settling himself into Otabek’s warm, strong arms.

   He was almost asleep when Otabek sighed, leaning over him to take his phone off the nightstand.

   ‘What is it?’ Yuri whispered, half-sleep lingering on his eyelids.

   ‘I have to go to work.’

   ‘Is it late already?’ he asked in surprise.

   ‘No, but I have an important meeting about the bank super early.’

   Yuri yawned, rubbing his eyes with his palms. ‘Oh, okay.’

   He watched as Otabek sat up, stretching his arms to the ceiling. The muscles across his back pulled taut, extending smoothly as he clicked his neck from side to side. He turned around as Yuri pulled the sheet off himself, twisting his legs off the bed.

   ‘You don’t have to get up,’ Otabek said quickly, before pausing, as though he hadn’t quite planned on those words.

   Yuri stared at him.

   ‘It’s really early. Stay in bed a little longer. You should get some sleep after work, right?’

   He didn’t know what to say to that.

   ‘Really, go back to sleep.’

   Yuri swallowed, eyes wide. ‘I can… stay here?’

   ‘Yeah - yes. You can just… let yourself out, later. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I don’t mind.’

   Yuri wanted to get up anyway. Agreeing to some kind of _date_ was bad enough, but staying in his apartment? He was now breaking rules that he’d never even deemed necessary to make for himself.

   But Otabek’s bed was so soft. And it was so _cold_ outside. The thought of walking back to his unheated, miserable apartment, was just too much.

   ‘Okay,’ he said shyly.

   Yuri watched as he dressed, taking out the smartest clothes that he had seen him in. He had the sneaking suspicion that the suit jacket alone could pay his rent for half the year. ‘I might not see you again before Saturday. What’s your number? I can give you a call.’

   ‘I… I don’t have a phone.’

   Otabek looked mildly surprised, but he rearranged his face admirably fast. ‘Okay, no problem. Shall we say two o’clock, then? At the station exit?’

   ‘Sounds good to me.’

   ‘You - ’ Otabek paused, surveying him with exploratory eyes. ‘You look pretty in the mornings.’

   ‘Get to work,’ Yuri said, throwing a cushion at him.

   ‘See you Saturday,’ Otabek grinned, catching the pillow easily.

   Yuri waited until Otabek had made it out into the living room before calling out after him. ‘You look sexy in the mornings too, Beka.’

   He heard Otabek laugh.

   Yuri nestled his way down amongst the sheets, rolling over onto Otabek’s spot, which was warmer. It smelt of his cologne.

   He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, as he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, that to any outsider, it would have looked like a sweet boy waving away his boyfriend for work in the morning.

   Maybe.

   Until they saw the wad of cash laid out on the table, of course.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, are we at chapter 6 already? Time flies! Thank you all so much who commented on the last chapter, I love you all! This chapter is LONG. Important stuff is aired. xx

‘It’s a bad idea.’

   ‘I know,’ Yuri said moodily, crushing the potato chip in his hand with particular aggression.

   ‘But you’re still going to go?’

   He didn’t answer, pressing the residue into the table with his nails.

   By Friday afternoon, he had reached such a degree of anxiety about his upcoming date that he had organised an assembly with the only two people he regularly spoke to - Milo and Anastacia. It wasn’t the greatest meeting of minds that Yuri could have imagined, but they would have to do. The former had fallen asleep several minutes earlier, sprawled across the crouch, but Anastacia at least had decided to make an effort.

   ‘How many times have you gone home with him?’

   Yuri thought hard. ‘Five. I think.’

   ‘You shouldn’t have gone back after the first time.’

   ‘Yeah, that’s pretty obvious now,’ Yuri said, tone dark. ‘He let me stay in his apartment last time,’ he added quietly, not quite sure whether he wanted her to hear or not. It felt like a dirty secret.

   ‘He _what_?’

   ‘He went to work after we fucked. And he said I could stay.’

   ‘Oh God, Gabe, you need to pull out now,’ Anastacia said, blonde head shaking vigorously. ‘You didn’t actually agree?’

   Yuri made a non-committal noise.

   His colleague-turned-uneasy-friend sighed. ‘You just can’t let go of this one, can you?’

   ‘I really like him, Ana.’

   She looked at him with kind eyes, a little hollowed by life on the streets but uncharacteristically warm at this time of day. As they were talking, Yuri realised that he didn’t actually know if Ana was even her real name.

   ‘Alright, honey,’ she said, reaching over and squeezing his hand across the table. ‘You need to make a choice. You can’t have him this way and that way. He’s either your client, or your boyfriend - he can’t be both.’

   ‘I know.’

   ‘So?’

   ‘I’ll deal with it,’ he said, picking at a loose splinter on the table. ‘I’ll _deal_ with it.’

*

Yuri changed his outfit at least five times on Saturday morning. He was moving around the basement flat with a restless vigour, brought on by a combination of anxiety and sleep-deprivation - he hadn’t worked the night before, but that didn’t mean he had slept either.

   What exactly was the appropriate outfit for meeting your client-turned-date for an as-yet-unspecified liaison? Typically, Yuri cycled between two styles: sexy, for work, or shapeless, for all other excursions. Neither seemed liked the right fit for today.

   ‘Stupid fucking jeans,’ he said aloud, throwing down another pair with too many tears for the daytime.

   ‘Mate, you need to chill, like _yesterday_ ,’ said Milo, leaning against the doorframe. ‘You meet dudes every night and I’ve never seen you stress like this.’

   ‘Yeah well the plan isn’t usually to keep the clothes _on_ ,’ Yuri said, rounding on him. ‘I tend to go for styles that are easy to tear _off_.’

   ‘Just wear jeans and a coat, bro. He’s seen your asshole - I don’t think his opinion of you is gonna be greatly impacted by your fashion choices.’

   ‘Go fuck yourself, Milo,’ Yuri muttered, although now that he thought about it, there was an inkling of truth in his roommate’s vulgarity.

   After another twenty minutes, he collapsed back on his bed, having finally settled on a pair of tight-fitting black jeans and a simple, inoffensive white shirt with sleeves long enough to pull over his hands when he got nervous.

   Saying yes had seemed like an alright choice at the time, but now he was regretting it. Meeting up with Otabek to fuck was easy. Meeting up with him to _hang out_ was more emotionally taxing than work had ever been.

   ‘Look, mate,’ said Milo, who had continued to watch his cycling of clothes with raised eyebrows. Yuri felt the mattress depress as he sat down. ‘I know I rag on you, but you’re alright, you know that? Not that I like… look at dudes that way or anything… but you’re alright looking, aren’t you? I mean, like if I were a girl, I’d think you were alright.’

   Yuri snorted a little at Milo’s discomfort.

   ‘And you’re actually kind of funny, sometimes. And not stupid, from what I can tell. You’ll be fine. This guy should count himself lucky to be taking you out.’

   Yuri sat up, staring into his roommate’s shallow blue eyes with a look of mild surprise. They had been sharing this shithole for a pretty long time by now, and yet it was undoubtedly the nicest thing that Milo had ever, _ever_ said to him. In fact, Yuri wouldn’t even have thought he had it in him.

   ‘Thanks,’ he said, with a genuine sincerity.

   ‘Yeah, well… yeah. You should get going. There’s delays on the metro.’

   ‘Really, Milo, thanks. I mean it.’

   ‘Go on, get outta here.’

*

Otabek was pacing, fiddling anxiously with his cufflinks as he kept an eye on the station clock.

   It had taken him far, far too long to decide what to wear. His wardrobe only had two halves: suits for work, or sweats for the gym. He had been on the verge of skyping Rustam before deciding that he couldn’t bear the interrogation. Instead, he had assembled something borderline-casual from the least formal corners of his work closet, and had pulled on a massive overcoat that really negated the need for all of his hard work.

   It was freezing outside.

   Winter had crept up on Moscow with impressive stealth, but it had shown its cards now. There was a threat of snow in the air, as he had predicted earlier in the week, just tinting the sky white.

   Otabek checked his watch instead of the station clock this time, jaw working overtime. It was now twenty past two, a little way beyond when he had arranged to meet Yuri, and he had absolutely no idea whether he would even show up.

   Surely it had been stupid, to invite him out like this.

   Yuri had probably been disgusted.

   He closed his eyes, counting his way through half a minute before someone jostled past him and he snapped back to reality.

   It was then that he saw him.

   Yuri stood out like a lighthouse in the dark, even though he was smaller than most of the station crowd. He walked with a presence that Otabek suspected even Yuri himself didn’t recognise, a sort of grace that parted the crowd in front of him. He was underdressed for the cold, as always, wearing only a thin leather jacket over his shirt. Otabek made a mental note to make sure he gave him his coat later.

   ‘Hey, Yuri,’ he called out, before the nerves could get the better of him.

   Yuri looked over to him with a distinct change of expression - was it… relief? ‘You came,’ Yuri said, taking the last few steps at a skip. ‘I’m sorry I’m late - the metro was fucked.’

   ‘It’s okay. I only just got here,’ Otabek lied, as though he hadn’t been standing in the cold since an hour early.

   For a moment, they looked at each other uncomfortably. Otabek wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do. Was this their first date? Or their sixth? Was he supposed to kiss him?

   ‘You look nice,’ he said.

   Yuri raised his eyebrows, then glanced down at himself. ‘Uh, thanks?’

   Then, Yuri gave a small laugh.

   ‘It’s awkward for you too, right?’

   Otabek half-smiled, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. ‘A little. I’m not very good at this kind of thing.’

   ‘Where are we going?’ Yuri prompted, giving him a small nudge with his shoulder so that he fell into step, the two of them walking away from the station entrance at last.

   ‘Oh,’ Otabek started - he knew that one! ‘I thought we could check out the underground arcade. I promise I’ll win you a plush kitty.’

   Yuri grinned, a smile so dazzling that Otabek had to look away quickly before his face started to turn red. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Beka. Claw machines are the devil.’

   ‘I have a lot of special skills, Yuri, and claw machines are one of them. Trust me, I’ll win you one.’ His confidence wasn’t ill-placed - Otabek had spent an extraordinary amount of time in his youth shut away in dark arcades, and he had developed an almost mythical ability to win. It had come in useful on many of his school dates with senior girls, all of whom had known full well that he wasn’t interested, but had accepted his proposals on the promise of prize teddy bears. At the very least, it had resulted in keeping his secret from Rustam and his parents for a little longer.

   ‘You have special skills outside the bedroom, too? How is that fair?’ Yuri mused, earning his own nudge from Otabek’s shoulder. ‘ _What_? I’m not good at anything, and you’re good at everything.’

   Otabek stopped, looking at him with undisguised frustration. ‘You’re good at loads of things.’

   ‘Like what?’ Yuri said, kicking out at a stone.

   Otabek stared at him, mouth half open. He had realised upon saying it that he had no idea what Yuri was good at, outside of the obvious. He felt like he had spent so much time in his presence already, and yet it suddenly became abundantly obvious that Otabek didn’t know Yuri at all. ‘Like making me smile,’ he said, finally plucking up the courage to wrap an arm around Yuri’s shoulders. ‘You’d be surprised at how rare of a skill that is.’

   To his relief, Yuri didn’t pull away. He leant in a little closer instead, height difference allowing him to slot into Otabek’s side comfortably. The physical contact was more familiar than their distance - Otabek might not know all of his skills, his likes and dislikes, his favourite colour… but he did know how to touch him. He knew how to keep his grasp assured but gentle. He knew how much Yuri hated feeling weak - small and delicate or not, Otabek would not betray that he felt like he was holding a fragile flower whenever he held Yuri.

   ‘You won’t be smiling once we get in the bumper cars. I’m very competitive, you know,’ Yuri said, looking happier now.

   ‘Oh really? We’ll see about that.’

*

   Otabek hadn’t been kidding about his abilities.

   After two hours, Yuri was overloaded with prizes. His hair was mussed up after an altercation with a driving simulator, and he had the sneaking suspicion that Otabek had just let him win on the air hockey, but he was beaming. Under his right arm he had tucked two plush kitties, one black and one white, and he had draped a huge soft dragon over his shoulders, the largest prize available at the token counter.

   ‘Hey, we have to win you something,’ Yuri said, grabbing Otabek’s hand and pulling him over to the last claw machine before the exit. He pointed through the glass at a brown bear, face squished. ‘That one looks like you.’

   ‘Alright,’ Otabek laughed, reaching into his pocket for change.

   ‘No, I’ll win it for you,’ Yuri said, digging around inside his own jeans and withdrawing a coin.

   He pushed it into the slot and took control of the claw.

   He managed to get a grip on the bear, but as soon as the hand started to lift, it fell from its grip. Glaring, Yuri cursed out loud.

   ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Otabek said, but Yuri was ignoring him, already focussed on his second attempt.

   The bear fell again.

   ‘Fucking machine,’ Yuri muttered, digging out more coins.

   He should have known that everything was going too well.

   After his fifth attempt, Yuri’s heart was thudding against his chest, far too dramatically for a kids’ arcade game. His hands were almost shaking on the joystick. He didn’t know what had him so antsy - he knew full well that he was being irrational - but it felt as though the glass had become some sort of barrier between him and Otabek. A small voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that if he could just win this stupid toy, it meant they could work together.

   ‘Yuri, it’s not a big deal,’ Otabek said softly.

   ‘Yes it is,’ Yuri said through gritted teeth, scrambling for more change. ‘Fuck,’ he added, when he found his pocket empty.

   ‘I’ll get it,’ Otabek supplied, taking out a coin and handing it to him.

   ‘No, you’ve paid for everything,’ Yuri said harshly. ‘I must have some money somewhere.’ He searched through his jacket pockets now, feeling his face heat up.

   ‘Hey, hey, let’s go with teamwork, right?’ said Otabek, wrapping his arms around Yuri from behind. He pushed the coin in the slot before Yuri could complain, and settled his hands over the smaller man’s wrists, directing them back to the controls.

   Yuri took a deep breath, concentrating hard. He allowed Otabek to steer him, gripping the joystick like a vice. Otabek interlinked his fingers through Yuri’s over the control, guiding the claw with familiar precision and lowering it confidently.

   As if by some divine gift, the bear lifted easily.

   Yuri swallowed hard, pulling the bear out of the prize bin and holding it out in front of him. There was a strange, unreadable expression on his face as he squeezed the plush between his fingers.

   ‘Thanks,’ he said, after a long pause.

   ‘Thanks?’ Otabek laughed. ‘This one’s mine - you can keep your hands off it.’

   Yuri smiled shyly, pushing the bear against Otabek’s chest before turning away from the accursed machine that had almost crushed him.

   They walked together back out into the cold, leaving the neon lighting and the pounding music of the arcade behind them. To Yuri’s surprise, Otabek started directing him immediately, hooking their arms together and leading him down the street.

   There was a light dashing of sleet in the air. The sun had already set, Moscow winter cutting their hours of daylight drastically.

   ‘Where are we going?’ Yuri asked curiously, shoving his new prizes under his jacket to keep them dry.

   ‘Food, of course,’ said Otabek. ‘Don’t worry, it isn’t far. Here, give me your cats. I have a bag.’

   Food came in the form of a small stall at the corner of a side street that Yuri did not recognise. Otabek had clearly taken his words about fancy restaurants fully to heart, because it was the Kazakh who looked out of place here, well overdressed for the dark, slightly damp street corner. The thought made Yuri smile.

   ‘Pirozhki,’ he breathed. Oh yes, Otabek had been paying attention.

   They ate together under a small shelter, on unstable plastic seats. The food was simple, cheap, but strangely homely. To Yuri, it could have been a six-month advance reservation at some pretentious fusion restaurant - the effect was the same. He felt treated.

   ‘Can I ask you a question?’ Otabek said, watching him eat.

   Yuri made a sound that indicated yes, busy with another order of pirozhki.

   ‘How long have you been doing… what you do?’

   He almost choked. For a moment - a few golden minutes - he had forgotten. He had forgotten about prostitution - had forgotten that Otabek was his client. For a moment, it had just been a date.

   _All good things must come to an end_.

   He looked down, swallowing a mouthful that had suddenly become very dry and doughy. It seemed to linger in his throat, rough on the back of his tongue.

   ‘Oh… I don’t know,’ he said honestly. Yuri wasn’t one for keeping track of dates. ‘Three years?’

   ‘Have you ever thought about… doing something else?’

   There was a muscle working in Yuri’s jaw now. ‘No. Like I said earlier, I’m not good at anything.’

   ‘Everyone has to start somewhere,’ Otabek said, not unkindly. ‘I’m not saying you should quit,’ he added quickly, ‘just that… if you wanted to… you should know there are options.’

   ‘What would you know about it?’ Yuri snapped.

   Otabek looked a little taken aback. Yuri almost felt guilty - his date genuinely didn’t seem to realise what he had done wrong. ‘I just thought - ’

   ‘Can we talk about something else?’

   ‘Did you want me to pay you… for this?’ Otabek asked after a beat.

   So that was why he had brought it up. He wasn’t sure if he was paying for Yuri’s company or not.

   _I should have guessed_ , he thought bitterly. It had been stupid to come. To Otabek, he would always be a street hooker. How could he ever have imagined that he would just forget?

   _There’ll always be a question mark_.

   He stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back. ‘No, you don’t have to pay me,’ he said, voice sounding as though it belonged to somebody else. It rang in his own ears like someone calling to him from the end of a tunnel. ‘Thanks for the food. And the games. It was fun.’

   ‘Yuri - ’

   But he had already turned away, pulse like a bass drum in his head.

   ‘Yuri wait!’ Otabek said, following him.

   Yuri turned his head down against the sleet, praying that it would mask the traitorous tears that had betrayed his face.

   ‘Please, Yuri. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want - I just… I didn’t want you to think I’d expect you to - ’ Otabek was spluttering.

   Yuri rounded on him, sleeve wiping furiously at his face. ‘It’s fine, Otabek. I’m not stupid. I know what I am to you. I know I’m a whore.’

   ‘Yuri, you don’t understand.’

   ‘Don’t say that. I’m not a child,’ he said, the impact of his words lost in his shaking voice.

   ‘Yuri, you’re perfect!’ Otabek shouted. ‘You’re beautiful and funny and smart and way too special for some average guy. I thought you’d never want a boring, dysfunctional workaholic like me. I figured the job could be the only reason you’d agree to come because what the hell else could you see in me?’

   Yuri stared at him.

   ‘I’m sorry.’ For the first time, Otabek looked small. He was hunched in insecurity, shoulders close to his ears. Yuri’s blood was rushing in his ears as he tried to process his words.

   The cogs shifted slowly into place. ‘You thought… you thought I’d only go on a date with you if I was getting paid?’

   Otabek didn’t answer. He looked so lost.

   Yuri almost laughed. The crash of emotion was so overwhelming that his face didn’t seem to know which expression to act out first. ‘Oh my God, Beka,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I _like_ you. I came because I thought you liked me too and we could go on date like normal people. I don’t want your stupid money.’

   ‘I do like you. I think I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone.’

   For a moment, they stared at each other, two lost boys in the rain.

   For the first time, Yuri saw something of himself reflected back in Otabek’s face. The wealthy, clever, handsome Otabek, who had seemed so perfect - too perfect for him - was just as insecure, just as confused, just as anxious…

   Finally, Yuri’s lips started to turn up into a half-smile. ‘Well if you like me so much, you could at least lend me your coat. This rain is getting worse.’

   Otabek closed the gap between them in a second, already shaking his coat off his shoulders, one arm still occupied with the bag carrying their arcade winnings. He hooked it further up his arm to free his hands, and draped the coat carefully over Yuri’s shoulders, hands shaking. His fingers lingered at Yuri’s throat, touching lightly up to his jaw.

   He kissed him too softly, the gentlest of touches that barely grazed his lips. Yuri, still energised from the adrenaline of their fight, closed his fingers on the already wet shirt clinging to Otabek’s chest, pulling him nearer. He kissed him back hungrily, almost _needily_ , as though it were the first time he had really been allowed to touch him.

   ‘Let’s go back to yours,’ he breathed against Otabek’s cheek. He might not be here on business, but that didn’t mean he was going to become president of the chastity society.

   ‘Are you sure?’ Otabek said, holding Yuri’s face in his hands as if it was his most prized possession.

   ‘Yeah, I’m sure. Just don’t try to fucking pay me again tonight or I’ll put a hickey on your neck so big you won’t be able to go to work for a week.’

   ‘Can’t you do that anyway? I mean I’d really, really like to spend the week in bed with you,’ Otabek said, fingers twisting into his hair as he brought him closer for one more kiss.

   ‘Really, a whole week just in the bed? I’d be thinking we could try the coffee table at least. Or the kitchen counter. Maybe up against the mantelpiece…’ Yuri grinned, pulling away and lacing his fingers around Otabek’s.

   ‘You’re dangerous,’ said Otabek, gripping his hand tighter as they walked back down the street, all thoughts of their confrontation lingering behind in the dark.

   ‘And I’m only going to get worse. You realise you’re stuck with me now?’

   ‘Good,’ said Otabek.

   ‘You’re lucky I go for boring, dysfunctional workaholics…’

   Otabek would have pushed him, but he held back. Yuri might be a smartass, but he was still small, after all. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much to all you angels who comment on this fic. I’m so glad that people enjoy reading it. It means a lot to me. I’ve been having a lot of anxiety about writing this week and I deleted this whole chapter before rewriting it because I decided everything I’ve ever written was awful omg. Coming back to your comments to know that I’m doing something right is so important.  
> I love all you guys.  
> xx

   When Yuri woke up, he kept his eyes closed for as long as possible. His senses were on fire with sensations.

   He could feel the steady rise and fall of Otabek’s chest, the warmth of his bare skin against his cheek. He could smell the must of cologne mixed with sweat and sex in the air, a vague hint of the bottle of red wine they had shared last night also detectable. He could hear the rush of the morning traffic outside, muffled by the apartment’s high quality glazing.

   For a moment, he enjoyed the rhythm of the morning, squeezing his eyes as tightly as he could to block out the sunlight streaming through the window. He was going to have to tell Otabek to invest in some curtains - not everyone wants to wake up at dawn every day.

   If Yuri had known sex was this fun off the clock, he might have tried it earlier. The wine, the memories of a good day, the safety of going home with someone you could trust - the feeling was intoxicating.

   ‘You’re awake,’ said Otabek, unmoving.

   Yuri smiled against his chest, nestling in a little closer. ‘No I’m not,’ he said, fingers tracing around Otabek’s navel, ‘I’m dreaming.’

   ‘All good dreams I hope?’ Otabek’s hand had moved to his hair, playing with it gently. He had brushed the loose strands back from Yuri’s face to get a better look at him.

   ‘The best,’ Yuri whispered. ‘It’s Sunday. You’re not going to work today, are you?’

   ‘That depends: if you’re asleep, there’s really no reason for me to be here. But if you were awake…’

   Yuri sat up, shooting him a glare. His pout made Otabek laugh.

   ‘Well, would you look at that?’ Otabek said in mock surprise. ‘Sleeping Beauty awakens.’

   ‘Hardly,’ Yuri sniffed, ‘the Prince hasn’t kissed me yet.’

   Otabek grinned, shifting up on the pillows and cupping a hand around Yuri’s neck to pull him down to him. When their lips were an inch apart, Yuri pressed his finger between them, flat against Otabek’s lips.

   ‘Let me know when he arrives, will you?’ he said, before climbing away off the bed and searching around the floor for something to wear.

   Otabek collapsed back with an _oof!_

   Yuri padded out of the room barefoot, looking every bit the movie character in one of Otabek’s shirts, and wandered over to the kitchen.

   He searched through the cupboards for something that he could eat immediately - Yuri had never been good at cooking. He stopped when he felt Otabek’s arms wind around his waist, nose working through the nape of his hair to kiss slowly down the prominent ridges of his spine.

   Yuri giggled, twisting away.

   ‘I stand by what I said, you know?’

   ‘What’s that?’ said Yuri, snaking one of his arms free from Otabek’s bear-like embrace so that he could resume his hunt for food.

   ‘You _do_ look pretty in the mornings.’

   ‘Why don’t you own anything that you can just _eat_ , Beka?’ Yuri said, ignoring him pointedly.

   ‘I like to cook, pretty boy.’

   Yuri’s heart fluttered at the name, but he kept his face dismissive. ‘Well I don’t. Next time you go shopping, make sure you buy at least five things with _instant_ on the packaging for when I’m round.’

   ‘Don’t worry,’ Otabek said, snatching one more kiss against Yuri’s cheek before he could squirm away, ‘I’ll cook for you.’

   Yuri darted away from him smugly then, already seeing this morning as a success story. He sat down at the small breakfast table, watching Otabek take out eggs and tomatoes from the fridge. ‘I like my eggs sunny side up,’ he supplied, watching the way that the curve of Otabek’s bare back extended as he reached around for pans. He was glad that Otabek wasn’t watching his hungry expression as he concentrated on the way his grey sweatpants slung just a little too low on his hips.

   ‘You’ll get what you’re given,’ Otabek replied, not turning around.

   ‘Prince Charming would cook his pretty boy whatever he wanted.’

   ‘I always thought those love stories were boring,’ said Otabek, concentrating on the stove, ‘we’re much more interesting.’

   ‘Is that what we are?’ Yuri said, resting his chin forward on his hand. ‘A love story?’

   Otabek turned around, leaning back against the counter. ‘What do _you_ think we are?’

   Yuri thought for a minute. ‘A work in progress.’

   The Kazakh nodded, staying in his position long enough for Yuri to construct a nice image in his long-term memory of Otabek’s work at the gym, before turning back to serve up their breakfast.

   ‘Just like your bank,’ Yuri added, ‘right now it’s just plans and rubble. But one day it will be beautiful.’

   ‘Well, we have a head-start,’ Otabek said, putting the plates down on the table and sitting opposite him. ‘You’re already beautiful.’

   Yuri watched him as they started to eat, an unreadable expression forming on his face. It made Otabek do a double-take when he glanced up, brow furrowing a little.

   ‘What is it?’

   ‘You were so monosyllabic when we met,’ Yuri said, ‘now you’re calling me all sorts of things. You’re like a different person.’

   ‘I was nervous,’ he smiled, looking a little embarrassed. ‘My brother convinced me to go out and… y’know… And, well, I wasn’t expecting… _you_.’

   ‘Were you looking for a girl? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve turned someone’s head,’ Yuri teased.

   Otabek laughed, shaking his head. ‘No, definitely not. I just wasn’t expecting someone so beautiful.’

   ‘You’re making me blush.’

   ‘I was so confused when you started talking,’ Otabek said. ‘Your face is so angelic but your mouth was so sexy.’

   ‘I guess neither of us were ourselves that night,’ said Yuri. ‘Can I… can I tell you something?’

   ‘Always,’ said Otabek, putting down his fork.

   ‘It’s… it’s stupid,’ Yuri said, quickly changing his mind. He let the longest of his hair fall over his eyes in shyness, concentrating on his food. Otabek was a good cook. Of course. Was there anything he wasn’t good at?

   ‘Tell me,’ Otabek said, curiosity in his voice.

Yuri looked up, meeting his eyes through his lashes. ‘I… when I do what I do… I play this character. I only started doing it because early on this kid on my patch told me I shouldn’t give out my real name. But the longer I used this fake name the more it became… a part of me. Whenever I was scared, or a client was making me uncomfortable, or I was pushing beyond my limits, I’d find this alter-ego deep inside and he… he’s not scared of anything. He’s ultra sexy,’ he said, constructing a smile, ‘you almost met him that first time. He’s up for anything - he’ll take you anywhere. It got to the point that I just became him every night on the job… like… I don’t know, to dissociate I guess. I even started to find it fun… almost like playing make believe.’

   Otabek was nodding, eyes serious. ‘Does he have a name?’

   Yuri paused, looking down. It was so strange. After years of protecting the name _Yuri_ \- even his own fury at giving out that name to Otabek accidentally that night - now he felt stranger about giving out _Gabriel_. It was as though to all of his other clients, he had wanted to show them that second self and hide reality, and yet here he wanted to share only his truth and lock that other side far away from his view.

   He concentrated on his plate, eyes flitting over the meal that Otabek had prepared for him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made something - _anything -_ for him. He could trust Otabek with this.

   ‘Gabriel,’ he said finally. ‘His name was Gabriel.’

   ‘Was?’

   ‘I think he’s gone now,’ Yuri said, a strange feeling settling in his abdomen. He knew the words were true as he said them. ‘I think I lost him that night.’

   It felt so final to say it out loud, even though he’d been thinking it for days now. He had been struggling to admit it to himself, but he hadn’t been able to find that piece of himself since the moment Otabek had driven up in that car. It felt like a bereavement. His safety net was gone.

   Otabek reached out across the table, hand closing over Yuri’s. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stroking his thumb in soft circles across the back of Yuri’s hand.

   Yuri looked up. He had expected Otabek to be confused, or maybe even laugh, but he was looking at him with an expression of such pure understanding that, for once, he didn’t feel the need to break their gaze. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, swallowing hard, ‘I think… I think it’s time… for me to start being me.’

   ‘Good,’ said Otabek, squeezing his hand, ‘because _you_ are amazing.’

   ‘Not as amazing as Sundays off,’ Yuri said, clearing his throat to show that he was done with the subject. ‘Can we watch something on the TV today?’

   ‘Of course,’ Otabek said in mild surprise. ‘What do you want to watch?’

   ‘I don’t know. What’s good? I don’t have a TV.’

   ‘Well it’s mostly terrible,’ Otabek shrugged, ‘I mean _really_ bad. But I have a few movies on record.’

   ‘Awesome. Pick anything. I’ll watch it.’

‘I can’t wait to learn everything you like,’ said Otabek, ‘and everything you don’t. I want to know everything about you, Yuri.’

   Yuri smiled, secure in the knowledge that there were things about himself, about his life, that he would never, ever share with Otabek. There were things he didn’t need to know. But he nodded. There was so much he wanted to learn about Otabek too.

*

Yuri didn’t return to his basement flat until Monday afternoon, flush with energy and swinging a stuffed bag over his shoulder, filled with plushes from his arcade date.

   It had been the best couple of days - the laziest he had had for a long time. Before taking the metro home, he had arranged to meet Otabek again at the weekend. Another date. A real date.

   ‘Who are you and what have you done with my roommate?’ Milo asked when he came through the front door, beaming.

   ‘Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m the happy twin,’ said Yuri, throwing his stuff down on his bed and collapsing backwards onto the hard mattress.

   ‘Your date went well then?’

   ‘We went to the arcade. And then we went back to his. And then we spent the weekend in bed.’

   ‘Alright, alright, I don’t need the details,’ Milo said quickly. ‘I’ve got tickets to a show at the Cavern tonight. Wanna come? I’m gonna do some business.’

   Yuri shook his head, rolling over onto his front. ‘I have to work tonight.’

   ‘You’re still working?’ Milo said, raising his eyebrows.

   Yuri craned his neck around to look at him. ‘Well yeah. Duh. We still have bills to pay, you know.’

   ‘Alright. Weird, but okay.’

   ‘ _What_?’ Yuri pressed, sitting up.

   ‘You don’t think it’s weird? You’ve got a boyfriend now… and you’re still gonna fuck other guys?’

   ‘It’s not weird,’ Yuri said defensively, ‘it’s my job.’

   ‘Whatever you say, bro. But I don’t think your man will be too happy about it.’

   ‘He knows what I do. He’s fine with it,’ Yuri said, though his voice faltered slightly.

   He hadn’t really thought beyond a day-by-day basis when it came to Otabek. What _was_ he going to do about his work? Whatever he said to Milo, and whatever he wanted to be true, he wasn’t entirely sure how Otabek would feel about sharing him with half of Moscow’s seedy underground. It hadn’t escaped his notice how he had tightened his grip on the steering wheel when Yuri had mentioned other clients once before, or the small bits of concern that would creep into his voice whenever he asked about it.

   ‘Cool then. Guess he’s a bigger man that me. I wouldn’t want you doing that.’

   ‘Well, it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend then, isn’t it Milo?’ Yuri retorted.

   ‘God, screw me for trying to help,’ said Milo, throwing his hands up. ‘I’m going out.’

   ‘Good,’ Yuri muttered, squashing his face into his pillow. He wasn’t angry with Milo. Not really. But he was angry with the questions that his remarks had sent creeping into the back of his mind.

   He listened to the front door slam, then fumbled across the bed for the bag he’d brought back with him.

   He pulled out the two plush kitties, the huge dragon, shoving them onto his pillows, and then paused as his fingers closed around the soft fuzz of the bear at the bottom of the bag.

   Otabek’s bear.

   They’d forgotten to leave it at his place.

   Yuri pulled it out, looking intently at the face that reminded him so much of Otabek. He sat it down on the bed, smiling to himself, and closed his eyes, thoughts on the future that he was imagining for himself more and more; a future in which it was the real Otabek in his bed every day.

*

   Yuri did work.

   He had worked three nights in a row: two decent, manageable nights.

   On the third, he had started coughing.

   ‘Oh fucking _hell_ ,’ he groaned, shuffling around the apartment at around three a.m. on Friday morning.

   Milo was snoring, asleep on the sofa rather than his battered mattress on the floor. Yuri could never quite remember how it had ended up there - there had been a bed frame when he had moved in.

   ‘Don’t get sick,’ he grumbled aloud to himself, a futile instruction as he started hacking again.

   Flu season was dangerous for people in his line of work. The job didn’t offer sick-pay, and most people weren’t too happy with a prostitute sneezing around their cock. Rent day was looming.

   ‘Don’t get _sick_ ,’ he whined again.

   He took a shower, praying that it would clear his sinuses, but when he limped out ten minutes later, nothing had changed except for the icy water pressure making his head throb.

   He knew that Milo must keep some cough medicine around somewhere for when more enjoyable pickings were sparse. He dragged his feet over to the kitchen, searching under the sink through Milo’s stash and emerging smugly with a bottle.

   He poured out a very generous dose, figuring that if Milo was still alive after everything he put in his body, it couldn’t be that bad.

   ‘Don’t you dare get sick,’ he ordered, wobbling back to bed and falling flat on his front, face in the pillow.

   The drowsiness started hitting him first, but it was soon followed by an itching restlessness.

‘Oh come _on_ ,’ he groaned, sitting up. The whole room took a moment to right itself, making him roll his head sideways to level himself. Instead of settling his nerves, the medicine seemed to have recycled his worries back to the front of his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally calculating the reserves he had in his safe deposit box. There was no way he was going to be working for a few days.

   After a long, furious reflection, he opened his eyes and found himself face to face with -

   _Otabek_.

   Yuri stared at the bear.

   _Otabek._

He rolled over, snatching at a pair of jeans from the floor and stumbling in his haste to dress quickly. His body didn’t seem to be able to keep up with his mind’s instructions. His hair was drenched, and he knew he’d probably catch a chill out in the winter like this, but he didn’t care. He was already sick, and he wasn’t fucking happy about it. He stormed out of the flat with an aggression that the doorframe didn’t deserve, taking the stairs two at a time, with only one trip, up into the night.

   He was sick and moody and drowsy and all he could think was that he wanted _him_.

*

   _One ring._

_Two rings._

Yuri hunched over the payphone, squinting at the piece of paper on which Otabek had printed his number to check that he had keyed it in correctly. His vision seemed to be slightly blurred.

   _Three rings_.

   ‘Fucking pick up, Beka,’ he whined into the darkness.

   _Four rings._

‘’ello?’ Otabek sounded groggy, voice heavy with sleep.

   ‘Beka?’ Yuri whispered, leaning in closer to the phone as though to close the distance between them.

   ‘Yuri?’ suddenly, Otabek sounded awake. He heard the shuffle of sheets. ‘Are you okay?’

   ‘I’m _fine_ ,’ he said, impressing himself with the steadiness of his voice. ‘I just wanted to hear your voice.’ As it was, his voice down the phone sounded nothing like the one he had heard in his head - to Otabek’s ear, it was slurred, words running into one another.

   ‘What’s wrong? Something’s wrong. Have you taken something?’

   ‘I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I called you. I’m just… I got _sick,_ ’ Yuri said petulantly. He was struggling now to find the right words, face scrunched up in concentration. ‘I took all this… _cough_ _syrup_ … but I don’t think it’s doing anything.’

   ‘Cough medicine, huh?’ He actually heard Otabek laugh lightly, relief audible in the sound. ‘Why don’t I come and get you? I can take care of you at mine.’

   ‘Nah I’m f- _fine_.’

   ‘I’ve already got my shoes on, honey. Where are you?’

   He gave out his address without much of a fight, eyes closed, focussing on the sound of Otabek’s voice. He was swaying slightly on the spot.

   ‘Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. Don’t wander off anywhere, okay?’

   Yuri nodded before remembering that Otabek couldn’t see him. ‘Yeah. I won’t move,’ he slurred. He sat down against his building, back flat to the brick, and rested his forehead on his knees. His head felt heavy.

   The wait seemed long - so long that he had half fallen asleep by the end of it. It was cold, freezing cold, and if he wasn’t careful his hair was going to start frosting up, but the cough medicine had dulled the sensation.

   He looked up at the sound of an engine, bliss flooding to his fingertips as he saw the familiar car pull up in the darkness.

   _Otabek_. Otabek, who in the place of Gabriel, had become his lifeline in these strange, vulnerable moments.

   ‘Hey you,’ Otabek sighed fondly. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and he was wearing mismatching shoes. ‘Hey, hey, you’ll catch your death out here - you’re all wet,’ he murmured, crossing the sidewalk in a second and pulling off his coat.

   ‘I’m sorry I called you. It’s really late.’ Yuri’s tongue dragged over the _l_ sound for so long that the second half of the word was lost.

   ‘It’s okay,’ Otabek whispered, wrapping the overcoat around him. He was smiling. ‘Let’s get you inside. We need to get you warm. Is this your place?’

   Yuri gave an unintelligible mumble.

   ‘Yuri, is this your apartment?’

   He nodded. ‘But you can’t leave your car around here, someone will… lots of un-un _savoury_ types in these parts…’

   ‘It’s insured,’ Otabek said, half-lifting Yuri back to his feet. ‘Where are your keys?’

   Yuri fumbled them back out of his pocket, shoving them into Otabek’s hand. He led the way unsteadily, mind slowly starting to process exactly what he was doing. Somewhere underneath the cloud of sedative was a conscious decision to do the one thing he had never dared. He was inviting Otabek into his space.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thank you all so much for your kind words on the last chapter - I really needed it last week. I hope this update is okay xx

He had had his suspicions, but seeing Yuri shuffle into his place…

   It hurt, just a little.

   Yuri’s flat was comprised of one room: one bed and one mattress, offset by a collapsed couch shoved unceremoniously into the corner by the kitchenette, a little too close to the kitchen table. It was also freezing - almost as cold as outside, although the air held a stagnant kind of texture from what Otabek suspected was extended drug use.

   ‘That’s Milo,’ Yuri mumbled, leaning against him in instability, ‘don’t worry, he won’t wake up.’

   Otabek wrapped an arm around Yuri’s shoulders, guiding him over to the bed and nudging him down. ‘Do you have a heater? You’ll freeze like this.’

   ‘Mm,’ Yuri jerked his head over at a rickety space heater. ‘But don’t put it on for more than ten minutes - we can’t afford it.’

   Otabek switched on the heater, dragging it over to right beside Yuri’s bed, and he picked up a discarded towel from the floor, lifting it to his head. Yuri didn’t make any effort to pull away when he started to massage the towel slowly against his hair, creeping up from the very nape of his neck to the blond locks that he loved so much.

   ‘You’ll get sick,’ Yuri said eventually, tilting his head away.

   ‘Oh, don’t worry about me,’ Otabek replied reassuringly, ‘my immune system is built of steel.’

   Yuri leant into his touch then, resting his head gently against Otabek’s shoulder as he continued to do his best to save his hair from the frost. Otabek chanced a glance over at the other mattress, appraising Yuri’s roommate quickly.

   He was a small man, even splayed out as he was across the surface, with sandy hair cut in an uneven line across his forehead. He had a strange likeability about him even while he was sleeping, the sort of optimistic face that made Otabek a little more relaxed knowing that this was where Yuri spent most of his time.

   ‘I’m sorry I phoned you,’ said Yuri, voice still slurred under the effects of the medicine he had taken.

   ‘It’s fine, Yuri. You _should_ call me. I’m your boyfriend. I’m here whenever you need me.’

   He couldn’t have known the effects that the words out loud had on Yuri’s heart.

   ‘God, you’re so cold,’ he murmured, dropping the towel and negotiating his arms tightly around Yuri’s small, vulnerable body.

   ‘You’re in my flat,’ Yuri groaned, his voice dropping an octave from the needy tone he had had when Otabek had arrived. ‘Oh _fuck_ you’re in my flat.’

   ‘Yeah, I’m in your bed and everything,’ Otabek said, conjuring a smile and kicking off his shoes. ‘Why did you go out in the cold like this? You’re lucky you didn’t freeze.’

   ‘I needed you,’ Yuri whispered, looking down to his lap.

   ‘I’m gonna buy you a cell-phone,’ Otabek said, ‘tomorrow.’

   ‘No,’ Yuri groaned, ‘don’t you dare buy me anything.’

   Otabek stood up, regretting having to unravel himself from Yuri, but determined to find him something warm, and walked over to the kitchen. It was less than five paces.

   He found the bottle of cough medicine on the countertop, squinting at the label. ‘Yuri, honey, this is eight months out of date,’ he said, shaking his head.

   ‘Huh?’

   ‘Okay, I’m gonna buy you some proper medicine as well tomorrow,’ he said, pulling out his phone and opening a note to make a list for Yuri. He filled the limescaled kettle and put it onto the stove, the gas taking a few promptings before it started to heat, and then set about searching the cupboards.

   He added to the list all the food that he wanted to buy. _Coffee, cocoa, sugar, bread, soups, stews, meat, vegetables._ Goddamn vegetables. There was nothing in Yuri’s fridge except a carton of milk that made Otabek reel when he opened the cap, and a foil-wrapped mass that he didn’t care to touch.

   It was no wonder that he was sick.

   He glanced over, seeing that Yuri had laid down on the bed, body curved towards the heater.

   Otabek had never been short of money.

   They weren’t the richest family in Kazakhstan, but growing up his parents had always assured than he and Rustam had had _enough._ Through college he had worked a job at the local coffee shop, and along with his parents’ support, he had never struggled. Straight out of school he had entered a junior role, sat behind a desk paying a better fee than the job Yuri had been slogging out for three years.

   Otabek had never had to turn off his heater in the middle of a Moscow winter because of the threat of his utility bill.

   There was a pain, deep in his heart, the sort of ache that hurt when he breathed.

   Otabek didn’t like cursing, but it wasn’t fucking _fair_.  

   How could Yuri expose himself like this - put his body and his goddamn life on the line like no one else - and end up in a one room flat with no heating and an empty refrigerator, when desk jockeys like himself could afford an apartment in the city’s best developments for pushing a pencil around paper?

   He swallowed, pulling out tea from Yuri’s cupboard and pouring him a mug if only for the warmth of the boiling water.

   ‘Drink,’ he said firmly, pushing the cup into Yuri’s hands and settling behind him, one leg tucked up over the other so that he could fit in behind his back. He pushed two hands under Yuri’s shirt, hoping that the heat from the kettle that now affected his hands would transfer from skin to skin. He felt every one of Yuri’s ribs, taut against skin, as he pulled him back against his chest.  

   ‘I’m sorry you had to come here,’ Yuri whispered, voice so quiet that Otabek had to lean close to him to hear, ‘I never wanted you to see this.’

   ‘Hey, your life is my life now, Yuri. I want to see all of you.’

   Yuri curled in against him, giving another choking, hacking cough.

   Otabek bit his lip, pressing his palm against Yuri’s forehead before the smaller could pull away. ‘Your skin’s so cold but your temperature’s really hot, Yuri,’ he murmured, brow furrowing, ‘maybe we should get you to see a doctor.’

   ‘No,’ Yuri said, voice desperate, ‘I don’t have insurance. _Don’t_. I can’t afford the bill.’

   ‘Okay,’ Otabek said quickly, startled by the urgency in his voice, ‘okay.’

   He pushed Yuri down on the bed, clawing around for the blankets and wrapping them up tightly around his body. He noticed, with a small smile, the stack of plushes that Yuri had lined up across his pillows.

   ‘Hey, you stole my bear,’ he said, picking it up and looking at the face that Yuri said looked like him. He couldn’t quite see it himself, but if Yuri said so, he had to be right.

   ‘Did not,’ Yuri sniffed.

   ‘Did too,’ Otabek said, lifting Yuri’s arms so that he could cocoon the bear in amongst them. After a pause, he sighed. ‘Please let me buy you a cell-phone, Yuri. Not because I was your client if that’s what’s making you uncomfortable - as your _boyfriend_. Boyfriends buy each other stuff. That doesn’t mean I’m paying you.’

   ‘Why do I need one?’ Yuri mumbled, voice muffled by all the blankets.

   ‘Because I need to know you can get hold of me if something happens - if there’s an emergency. You’re not always gonna be next to a payphone.’

   ‘Fine. But you’re only winning this argument because I’m sick,’ Yuri grumbled. ‘Can you at least hold me?’

   Otabek smiled, laying down next to him and pulling the bundle of blankets plus Yuri into his arms. ‘Yeah, that I can do.’

   He glanced up at the ceiling at the sound of a loud crash, followed by several shouts. Someone upstairs was fighting. If Yuri even noticed, he didn’t show it, eyes closed to the world and breathing wheezily. Otabek glared at the noise, nestling Yuri close to his chest, and vowed to make misery for anyone that dared to wake up the one perfect thing he had ever held.

*

   Yuri woke up to the smell of cooking. He also woke up to a throat like sandpaper and a pulsating headache at the very base of his skull.

   He groaned, rolling over and squinting at the kitchen.

   _Otabek_.

   In his flat.

   Oh _fuck_.

   The cough medicine. It was all the cough medicine’s fault. Surely he couldn’t have invited Otabek _here_?

   ‘You’re awake!’ Milo yelled, tilting his hair back on two legs and craning to look at him.

   Oh _God_ Otabek with _Milo_.

   ‘Hey, sweetheart,’ Otabek said, putting down the pan he was cooking with and walking straight over to the bed. ‘How’s your head?’

   ‘I feel hungover,’ Yuri muttered, before following up with five coughs. ‘This wasn’t how I expected us to spend our date.’

   Otabek leant in to kiss him, and Yuri only just had time to twist away.

   ‘ _Don’t_ , I’m disgusting!’ he whined.

   ‘Not to me,’ said Otabek, fingers carding through his hair.

   ‘You haven’t been talking to Milo, have you? Don’t believe anything he tells you,’ he said quickly.

   ‘I can hear you, you know!’ Milo exclaimed.

   ‘Yeah, and you were just _going out_ , weren’t you?’ Yuri said pointedly, jerking his head at the door.

   ‘No way mate, your boyfriend is cooking.’

   ‘Really? I remember you said you had that _really important thing_ to do this morning.’

   Otabek smiled, looking down and taking Yuri’s hands into his as the smaller shot a series of furious looks at his roommate. Finally, Milo conceded, pushing his chair back and stomping off to the door.

   ‘Did you want me all to yourself?’ Otabek asked, going back to the stove.

   ‘Really, he didn’t say anything to you, did he? What did you talk about before I woke up?’ Yuri said, trying to keep his tone light, but a little anxiety creeping in. Milo knew things. He knew things about Yuri’s past that he didn’t ever want Otabek to hear, and he knew from experience that well-meaning as he was, Milo was also an absolute loudmouth.

   ‘Nothing serious,’ Otabek reassured him, ‘I promise. Now, drink this. You need vitamin C.’

   Yuri wrinkled his nose at the orange juice Otabek gave him. He wasn’t enamoured with fruit.

   ‘Where did you get all this?’

   ‘I went shopping first thing,’ Otabek said, pausing to allow Yuri time for a sneezing fit, ‘you need plenty of healthy foods to help you get better.’

   ‘I’m so fucked,’ Yuri sighed, ‘work is gonna _suck_.’

   ‘You can’t be out there like this,’ said Otabek, shaking his head, ‘no way. You’ll make yourself worse.’

   ‘I need the money. I did the math last night and I can’t afford not to. This is such bad timing,’ he moaned, kneading his eyes with his palms. ‘I’d have my savings but I covered Milo’s rent last month. _Fuck_.’

   ‘Milo owes you money?’ Otabek said, turning around with a serious expression.

   ‘It’s not a big deal,’ answered Yuri, ‘he always pays me back eventually.’

   ‘If you covered his half last month, he should be able to prop you up this time. I’ll talk to him when he gets back.’

   ‘No, don’t worry about it,’ Yuri sighed. ‘I’ll deal with it. God I feel like shit.’

*

Shit got worse.

   Yuri’s pledge that he’d have to get back out on the streets was completely immaterial. For the next four days, he was barely able to move.

   Otabek visited every evening after work, always bringing something in a shopping bag, and Yuri had started to notice the strangest little things every time he woke up from his stupor and found Otabek roaming around the flat.

   First, the kitchen tap had stopped dripping. Then, the catch on the front door had been fixed. Perhaps most unusually, the star-crossed lovers upstairs hadn’t rowed audibly for four days. Lastly, Milo had mysteriously volunteered the money that he owed him, completely unprompted, and promised to make up any shortfall in the rent for the month.

   On the day that Yuri finally declared himself recovered, primarily because he refused to be sick any longer, he convinced Otabek to take him out.

   After days of cabin fever, a trip to a favoured bar of Otabek’s felt more like world tour.

   ‘The lights… the fresh air… the _people_!’ Yuri beamed, half sat on Otabek’s lap in the small booth.

   ‘You’re a free man now,’ Otabek grinned, feeding him a couple of bar snacks from the table and laughing as Yuri grazed his teeth over his fingertips very deliberately as he took a bite.

The music was a pleasant soft rock, kept low enough that they could actually have a conversation without having to yell over the din.

   ‘Mm, back to work and back to dates with the boyfriend,’ Yuri smiled, feeling Otabek fidget a little beneath him.

   ‘Actually, I wanted to ask you about a date. It’s one of my colleague’s partner’s promotion party on Friday. I was wondering if you… you know…’

   ‘If I…?’ Yuri bit his lip, cocking his head sideways coyly.

   ‘It’s just a stupid little thing. Not a big deal. If you don’t want to we don’t have to go. We can just hang out at mine or - ’

   ‘Did you just invite me to a party then snatch the invitation back?’ Yuri said reproachfully.

   ‘Do you want to go?’

   ‘Yeah, of course. I want to go everywhere with you.’

   ‘Okay,’ Otabek sighed with relief. ‘Cool.’

   ‘Beka I… I’ve been thinking,’ Yuri started, after an over-generous shot of vodka for courage.

   Otabek shifted Yuri off his lap so that he could turn to look at him properly.

   ‘About what you said… about me.’

   ‘Which part, sweetheart?’

   ‘About how I…’ Yuri took a deep breath. ‘About how I could try… something else.’

   He saw Otabek swallow, nodding slowly. ‘Okay.’

   ‘What do you think?’

   Otabek let out a breath, resting his hand gently on Yuri’s thigh. ‘I think that if that’s something you want to do, I’ll support you every step of the way. But I don’t want you to think you have to give up because of me or anything like that. I’m not saying I don’t worry about you - that thinking about it doesn’t scare me sometimes - but I understand what you do. I know you can take care of yourself. It’s important that if you’re making that call, it should be for _you_ , and only you.’

Yuri nodded, biting his lip. ‘I think it _is_ for me. It’s just… lying there all week I’ve had so much time to think and I just kept going over and over what happens next time. What if I get sick again? What if I get really fucking sick and I can’t work at all? The cops keep pulling people in off the streets. And I’m not getting any younger. I’ve been doing this three years already and the… the types of guys that want me…’ he paused, looking down in something that looked to Otabek dangerously like _embarrassment_ , ‘they want me looking young and pretty. What if someone else younger and prettier comes along and I start losing clients? I… I think I need to do something… stable. I can’t keep doing this forever - I’m gonna have to move on eventually, right?’

   ‘Okay,’ Otabek repeated, circling his thumb on Yuri’s leg. ‘If that’s what you want to do, then that’s what we’ll do. Together.’

   With the words out in the open, a strange calm settled over Yuri’s stomach. His insides had been turning over and over the subject for days, but Otabek’s reassurances lifted a whole weight off his body that he hadn’t even noticed was there.

   ‘I meant what I said about not being good at anything. I don’t… I don’t know what I can do. I don’t think anywhere would hire me.’

   ‘Did you finish high school?’

   Yuri shook his head, looking down at his hands. ‘I don’t have anything. No grades, no nothing.’

   ‘Okay, well that’s not the end of the world,’ said Otabek, putting his other arm around his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. ‘Where would you _want_ to work? Around people? At home? Inside? Outside?’

‘I don’t know,’ Yuri said, confidence waning.

   Otabek looked as though he was thinking. ‘Maybe I could have a poke around at my place, see if there’s anything - ’

   ‘ _No_ ,’ Yuri said firmly, before he could even finish. ‘I’m not… I’m not bringing those parts of my life together. Not again. It was hard enough taking you _out_ of the work box in my mind, I don’t want to stick you right back in there.’

   ‘Alright, I understand,’ he nodded. ‘Leave it with me, okay?’

   ‘Okay,’ Yuri said, bringing back a smile. ‘Thanks, Beka.’

   He leant in to kiss him, lightly and gently - the sort of kiss that usually came from Otabek.

   ‘I’m proud of you,’ said Otabek, ‘it’s brave, making that choice. I’ve never been more impressed by you than I am right now. My beautiful, strong Yura.’

   Yuri rested his forehead against Otabek’s chest, searching for the grounding force of his heartbeat. He didn’t feel brave - the thought of stepping away from the one world he knew was terrifying. The world that had been both a blessing and curse, sometimes cruel but always there for him since the day he had finally broken down in that alleyway. The prospect of leaving filled him with fear to his fingertips. But he knew that it was time. And he knew that Otabek was right. He could do it, and they could do it.

   Together.

  


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Thank you so much for your love as always last week. This chapter is one that has been building for a while, but I was struggling for the headspace to write it; it means a lot to me. The angst is here, please forgive me just this once.  
> I can’t believe we are already up to chapter 10 next. For those who have been reading from the start or only since the last chapter, I love you all <3

   Yuri was excited about the party all the way up until the moment Otabek told him exactly who they were celebrating, a couple of hours before they were due to leave.

   ‘Another _Yuri_? Some _other_ Yuri?’

   ‘Yuuri Katsuki,’ Otabek told him, ‘but don’t worry. You’ll always be number one to me.’

   Yuri huffed, rolling over onto his side and fiddling with a stray thread on one of Otabek’s pillowcases. He wasn’t sure why the revelation bothered him so much, but rationality had never been his strong point.

   It had been a busy week, catching up on the missed few days of his life. Work had been draining, the nights seeming to drag out longer now that he had decided they were numbered. He’d also had business to attend to - boring business. A visit to the bank to take full stock of his minimal savings; a visit to the free clinic for his frequent-flyer check-up; a visit to a client that he wasn’t overly fond of but who paid notably well, because he was anxious to build up any sort of financial buffer before giving up for good. That one had left him in a distinctly bad mood for the last day, until he had arrived at Otabek’s of course.

   ‘You know, we should probably start getting ready. Otherwise they’re gonna be able to tell we’ve just had sex,’ Otabek added, and Yuri bit back the smile that started to wander onto his face.

   Well, he wasn’t wrong.

   He sat up, stretching out and surveying Otabek. There was a row of red-flushed scratches down his tanned chest. ‘Oh, was that me?’ Yuri said innocently, checking his nails.

   ‘Wait til you see my back,’ said Otabek, watching Yuri walk over to the bathroom.

   ‘You know, we’d save valuable time if we just showered together,’ Yuri said, leaning against the doorframe. He was completely naked, but completely confident. He made no effort to cover any of himself, eyes focussed intently on Otabek’s.

   Whatever had he done to deserve _this_? What angel had he helped out in a past life to earn these afternoons, these mornings, these nights with Yuri?

   ‘Well, I can’t argue with that,’ Otabek shrugged, jumping out of the bed and chasing him into the bathroom. He caught him around the waist, peppering his neck with kisses. ‘Since you’re always making me lose track of time.’

   ‘Not my fault,’ Yuri remarked. ‘Blame your stamina.’

   ‘I haven’t heard you complaining,’ said Otabek, pushing him under the shower and kissing him as soon as the hot water started to fall.

*

   ‘ _Two_ Yuuris?’ Viktor announced, astonished. ‘We’ll have to give you a new name. How about… Yurio?’

   Yuri bristled, about to open his mouth, but Otabek cut across him first.

   ‘His name’s Yuri, Viktor,’ he said, in a tone that said it wasn’t up for debate.

   Otabek was much shorter than Viktor, but he seemed to occupy more space, shoulders square and eyes serious.

   Yuri wasn’t sure whether he liked Otabek’s friends. Otabek called them his _colleagues_ , but he could tell by the way that his lips twitched when they talked that they were really his friends. And out of them all, Yuri was already sure that he liked Viktor the least.

   Luckily, Otabek seemed to sense his tension, because he quickly steered him away, taking him over to a table that was providing drinks.

   ‘You get used to him,’ Otabek said.

   ‘Hmm.’

   As the night went on, Yuri started to relax. He didn’t particularly enjoy speaking to anyone else - in his eyes, it was time that could have been better spent talking to Otabek - but he made a genuine effort. He nodded through conversations - everyone seemed to be strangely interested in him - lying through his teeth about where they’d met, where he worked, any single question about himself.

   Somehow, several hours into the party, the man of the hour managed to corner him, and Otabek was nowhere to be seen.

   _Great_.

   ‘I can’t believe there’s another Yuuri around here,’ Yuuri said with a friendly smile.

   ‘Oh, yeah.’

   ‘Otabek told me about you.’

   Yuri looked up in surprise, gulping a large mouthful of champagne. ‘He… what?’

   ‘He asked me not to tell Viktor that he was seeing someone. My partner can be a little… _loud_.’

   ‘I noticed.’

   ‘But I think he needed _someone_ to tell. I still drop by the office from time to time - I worked there for months before I started at the collection. Once he starts talking about you, he can’t stop.’

   Yuri felt his face redden, so he looked down quickly. ‘What is it you do? I mean this is your promotion party, right?’

   ‘I work at a records library. I was an archivist for ages, but now I’m _the_ Archive Director.’ He punctuated the title proudly.

   ‘So what do you _do_?’ Yuri half-repeated, raising his eyebrows.

   Yuuri smiled kindly. ‘We organise and catalogue important documents. Some historical, some legal, some administrative. It depends on the department. I know it sounds boring,’ he said, perhaps having explained this one too many times, ‘but it’s actually really interesting. You read some crazy stuff sometimes.’

   Yuri picked at his nails, not wanting to meet his eyes. He didn’t want to betray the fact that the job didn’t sound boring _at all_.

   _Architect_ Otabek. _Office Manager_ Viktor. _Archivist_ Yuuri.

   Sure, maybe to the people Yuuri usually met, it sounded boring. But not to Yuri. It sounded great. Any job that didn’t involve fucking strangers in the street sounded _great_.

   He felt strangely jealous.

   ‘Lucky you,’ Yuri said, before he could stop himself.

   Yuuri didn’t seem perturbed. ‘Otabek mentioned that you were looking around for work.’

   Yuri’s head snapped up.

   ‘You know… as the _Archive Director_ … I do have hiring privileges.’

   So this was why Otabek was nowhere to be seen. He’d set this up - asked Yuuri to talk to him. Yuri wanted to be angry at his interference, but he could almost taste the opportunity in the air. Besides, he’d half agreed to this when Otabek had told him to _leave it with him_.

   ‘What? Like be an archivist or whatever?’ Yuri said, raising his eyebrows. ‘What exactly did Otabek tell you? You do know I’m not exactly qualified, right?’

   Yuuri shrugged. ‘He told me that you’re committed, hard-working, self-made.’

   Yuri had the distinct impression that Otabek had probably also told him not to ask _questions_.

   ‘You’d need a college degree to be an archivist, but we do have a front desk in dire need of a receptionist. Right now all enquiries come straight to us, and trust me, people in my profession aren’t famed for our social skills. It wouldn’t be a lot for you to learn - just answering phones and pointing people in the right direction. From what Otabek said, I reckon you’d pick it up fine.’

   Yuri swallowed, heart thudding. ‘Are you offering me a job?’

   ‘If you want it. Why don’t you come and check out the library some time? I can give you my number.’

   ‘O-Okay,’ Yuri said quickly, pulling out the phone that Otabek had bought for him.

   He filled in his number, but barely had time to stammer out a thank you before Viktor had appeared, sweeping Yuuri away in a wave of half-drunk singing.

   As if by magic, Otabek appeared, arm winding around his shoulders. ‘Reunited at last. What did Yuuri want to talk about?’ he said innocently.

   ‘Like you don’t know,’ Yuri said, jabbing his elbow into his ribs, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was smiling.

   ‘Really, what did he say?’

   Yuri turned around, sighing and shaking his head, before standing on tiptoes to kiss him lightly. ‘Thank you, Beka.’

*

   Otabek’s friends knew how to party - Yuri would give them that.

   The celebration grew more and more raucous, stretching on into the night. The music was so loud that it reminded him of his apartment block on the average Friday night.

   At one point, in danger of overheating from the crowds, Yuri managed to slip away.

   He had spent most of the first half of the night glued to Otabek’s side, but ventured out on his own this time, wandering up to the top floor of the venue, where there were less people and finding a locked door that seemed to lead out to a balcony.

   The thought of fresh air suddenly enticing, Yuri started to meddle with the catch, finding a bolt at the very top of the door. He had to stand on a chair, but everyone seemed too drunk to notice. ‘A-ha!’ he breathed, managing to negotiate the door open, and slipped outside.

   The cold air hit him in a rush, aggressively wintery now. He walked away from the door, over to a sheltered corner hidden mostly from view.

   Yuri stood back under the overhang, looking out from the balcony with narrowed, focussed eyes. The snow was coming down heavily now, for the first time this winter. There had been a few flurries, a few sleet storms, but this was real, constant snow. By morning, Moscow would be entirely blanketed.

   Yuri didn’t like snow.

   He turned around at the sound of the sliding door dragging open, relaxing when he saw that it was Otabek.

   ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ Otabek murmured, closing the sound of the party back inside and walking over to him.

   ‘It just got a little loud,’ said Yuri, looking back to the snow.

   ‘My two favourite things: snow _and_ Yuri,’ Otabek smiled, stepping out from the shelter and into the snow, turning his head up to the sky. The flakes began to settle gently on his jacket shoulders, tiny white diamonds in his hair and on the fingers he extended out to catch them.

   ‘I don’t like snow,’ Yuri said, shifting back further under the cover.

   ‘I remember,’ nodded Otabek. ‘Too grey, right?’

   ‘Mm,’ he hummed, looking down to his fingers. It was true. But there was more. For a long time, he’d forced himself to forget about it: the memory locked far away in a walled-off corner of his mind, never to be replayed. For three years, he’d told himself that his irrational dislike of winter’s most beautiful gift stemmed from the practicality, from the grey sky and the grey skin. But memories didn’t stay hidden when he was with Otabek - they hadn’t stayed hidden since the day he’d given up on Gabriel, the one barrier between him and the worst of it all. They stirred up until they rose all the way to his chest, desperate to escape.

   ‘It’s not grey tonight,’ Otabek said, smiling, ‘it’s all white.’

   ‘That’s not it,’ Yuri said, before he could stop himself.

   Otabek looked back at him, an expression of slight surprise colouring his features.

   ‘The first time,’ said Yuri, voice sounding like it belonged to someone else. He barely seemed in control of the words. ‘It was like this the first time.’

   Otabek didn’t need to ask what he meant. He stepped back under the shelter immediately, hands going to Yuri’s arms, rubbing up and down them ever so gently.

   ‘I’d been out on the streets for a few weeks. I was surviving. But only just. And before I knew it, it was winter and it was like this and I was so cold. The kind of cold where you forget everything that kept you sane - you forget all the thoughts that stopped you making that choice in the first place.’

   Otabek nodded, hands trailing down to hold Yuri’s.

   ‘This guy came up to me - I think he thought I was on the job already. I didn’t exactly look any different to any of the others. He was normal-looking, young, he seemed alright. I was so fucking cold - I thought maybe I’d get a couple of hours in a warm hotel room, or we’d go to his, or even a stupid car. And I thought why not? I thought things couldn’t get any worse.’

   The words tumbled out, breath catching in gasps.

   ‘But we didn’t go to his. He took me down this alley - fucked me there. It was…’ he closed his eyes. ‘I just… I cried, and cried, and cried. I haven’t cried like that ever in my life - not before or since. I cried like it was the end of the world. I thought it was. And then he left me. He left me there in the snow.’

   The words seemed to be tearing at his lungs as he finally said them aloud, physical hurting. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d started crying.

   ‘I don’t know how long I stayed there. I had nobody. No family, no friends, no Gabriel. No _home_. Just a handful of wet, worthless banknotes. And the snow. Alone in the fucking snow.’

   He let out a shuddering sob, not bothering to wipe away the tears that fell down his cheeks, but he did allow himself to be pulled in by Otabek’s arms.

   At last, Otabek spoke. ‘You have me now. I’ll be your home.’

   Yuri cried, tears flooding Otabek’s shirt, fingers gripping the lapels of his jacket like a lifeline. ‘I want to forget it all. I want to go back and rewrite the whole stupid story,’ he said, voice bordering on desperation, before looking up into Otabek’s eyes. They were shining, but it could have just been the lamplight. ‘Can we rewrite it?’

   Otabek sighed, thumbing over Yuri’s cheeks to catch as many of his tears as he could. ‘No one can rewrite the past, Yura, not even us. But we can start a new page. We can build new memories. Better ones. I promise you, I will write the most beautiful story anyone has ever read with you. I _promise_.’

   ‘Our work in progress?’

   ‘Yeah, that’s it,’ Otabek smiled. ‘Starting right here. New memory number one. This chapter will start in the snow just like the last one, but this time you’re going to think back in three years time and you’re going to smile because you’re going to have this memory. Us. Together. Starting our new story.’

   Yuri nodded, taking a few deep, grounding breaths. ‘Let’s go out in it,’ he whispered, closing his fingers around Otabek’s and pulling him slowly out from the shelter.

   ‘You don’t have to do this yet, Yuri. Don’t do this til you’re ready.’

   ‘I’m ready,’ said Yuri, a little familiar defiance creeping into his voice. He tilted his chin up. ‘I want to start now.’

   He stepped out into the snow, flakes immediately finding purchase on his blond hair. He was small, silhouetted in the dark by the low light, but he straightened up a little, his posture that of poise and grace that Otabek remembered from the first time he had ever seen him. He leant on the balcony, looking out over the city.

   Otabek watched him for a moment, as long as he dared because for the love of God he did not want to cry.

   Then he followed, wrapping his arms slowly around Yuri’s body from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder.

   They stayed unmoving, watching the city lights, for so long that the motion sensor lamps switched off, not even aware that people still resided there. A long silence, stretching into the night with careful, experimental fingers, testing out a new future.

   Then, Yuri’s voice, clear and light though his face was framed in darkness. ‘I love you, Beka.’

   Otabek swallowed, wondering whether Yuri felt the shift of his whole body’s axis. He kissed him softly against the skin of his temple, holding him tighter. After a pause: ‘I love you too, Yura.’

   Snow fell, but the early sunrise of Moscow winters threatened the skyline, the dark soon to give way to a new dawn.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening, angels! I'm sorry I made you guys sad last chapter. I hope I can make it up to you! xx

   The street was flooded with grey slush, the residue from one slightly too warm day and a foot of snow that was reticent to stick around any longer. Halfway down the road, a slight figure kicked his way through the water, splashing it into the gutters as he paced back and forth, head turned down against the trickle of rain that had started to fall.

   ‘Evenin’, gorgeous.’

   Yuri Plisetsky turned around, looking the man up and down. He was vaguely familiar. ‘Hey, honey,’ he answered, leaning against the wall with an alluring bite of his lip.

   Half an hour later, he had returned from the alleyway, finding his way back to his bag in the darkness. He swilled a mouthful of water before spitting it out, then a cap of cheap travel mouthwash, then went to take a proper drink of water. He had to struggle a little to swallow it down, body threatening to heave automatically. His gag reflex was sensitive - half-wrecked. It wasn’t what he wanted after his first client of the night, but it couldn’t be helped.

   He looked up, glancing down the street. Sometimes, if he squinted just right at the cars that came down this way, he could almost trick himself into thinking one of them was _his_.

   But Otabek Altin didn’t come down this way anymore.

   He waited, ignoring a couple of cars that he recognised - they were looking for Anastacia, not him.

   Then, a banged-up silver hatchback appeared, and Yuri stepped forwards automatically. This one, he knew well.

   He climbed into the passenger seat without a dialogue, already adopting the persona that he shared with this familiar face. This one liked him quiet, submissive, and pliable. He was also a half-decent guy, if you looked past the fact that he sought out Yuri once a month to live out the fantasy that he didn’t dare share with his girlfriend. He was always well behaved enough - eager to ensure that he was welcome for return visits.

   This would do nicely to round off the night.

   The motel room that they frequented wasn’t far, and the walk back was mercifully short. Yuri was limping slightly.

   He picked up his bag, repeating his routine, business-like and calm. It could have been the same as any other night, but of course it wasn’t. Nothing was the same. In the last few months, everything had changed.

   Finally, Yuri sighed, looking up and down the street one more time. His one colleague was nowhere to be seen - picked up hours ago - and there was little else that he cared for down here. He tossed his bag over his shoulder and set off at a decent pace towards the main road, shifting his clothes into the most reasonable position that he could manage.

   Out on the main road, his eyes flicked around quickly.

   There. A black car. Shiny, expensive, not at all like the ones that Yuri usually saw. His heart beat spiked, then settled.

   He wandered over, careful to conjure a smile and swing his hips as enticingly as he could, well aware that he’d be visible in the wing mirror.

   Yuri tapped his fingers on the window, crouching down as the door opened.

   ‘Looking for love tonight, baby?’ Yuri said, in a voice that was not his own - it was a remnant, a relic of the character he had once played.

   ‘Sorry, pretty boy - I’m taken.’

   ‘Right answer,’ said Yuri, before pulling the door fully open and throwing his bag in the back seat. He winced a little as he settled down on the white leather, fumbling for the seat belt.

   ‘Here.’

   His boyfriend had already taken off his jacket, still warm from his body. He leant over, negotiating it over Yuri’s bare shoulders. Yuri sat back, nestling his way into its warmth. It smelt of him - of his aftershave, his fabric softener - it smelt of _home_.

   ‘Yours or mine?’ Otabek asked, looking at him with soft, loving eyes.

   Yuri yawned, wondering if the distance to Otabek’s apartment would allow for a nap. ‘Yours,’ he mumbled, closing his eyes and tucking his feet up onto the seat.

   ‘Good,’ said Otabek, turning on the radio and pulling back out onto the road. ‘Because I made pirozhki earlier.’

*

   Yuri had been in the shower for coming up an hour now.

   Otabek knew exactly how he would emerge. Over the last three weeks, spending more and more time with him, he had grown to know almost all of Yuri’s habits. He knew that he didn’t like Otabek touching him when he felt _dirty_ , and he knew that _dirty_ meant _after-work._ He knew that he’d spend pretty much exactly the hour scrubbing his skin until it was red raw, then wander out with wearied, sleepy eyes.

   ‘I’m done,’ a voice said from the doorway.

   Otabek turned around, hot chai and bourbon cocktail ready to pour out.

   Sure enough, Yuri looked tired, but refreshed, blond hair long around his shoulders. He had been growing it more recently, even braiding it back when he was busy concentrating Otabek’s computer. He had never owned one - another revelation to Otabek - but he learned fast. He wanted to be ready for his new job.

   ‘Yes, yes you are,’ Otabek breathed, wondering if the relief was evident in his voice.

   These last couple of weeks had been the worst. He had been counting down the days until this one - Yuri’s arbitrarily assigned _last-day_. It had got to the point where he had been so openly paranoid about his safety that Yuri had finally said that he could come and drive him home each night if he really wanted.

   Otabek _did_ want.

   ‘Sit down. I cooked, and mixed,’ said Otabek, clearing some paper off the couch. It didn’t escape his notice that Yuri was limping. ‘Are you… okay?’ he asked carefully.

   ‘I’m fine,’ Yuri said, ‘nothing I can’t handle.’ He sat down, wearing Otabek’s clothes, but shifted around, as though unable to get comfortable.

   ‘Yuri, did someone…?’ Otabek began, suddenly anxious.

   ‘Just one of my regulars,’ he said, picking up a bun from the table, ‘with specific tastes. Nothing to worry about.’

   Otabek took a breath, determined not to react. It had taken so long for Yuri to start opening up about his day-to-day reality - to stop shushing him away whenever he mentioned it. He didn’t want to overdramatize something again. It was just the thought of someone… the thought that someone had got pleasure from hurting him -

   ‘It’s not a big deal, Beka,’ Yuri said. ‘You _know_ , that kind of thing can even be fun. Still, I suppose it’s not fit for your innocent ears,’ he added, eating with fervour, having no doubt fasted all day in preparation for his last night on the job.

   ‘Innocent?’ Otabek said, scoffing, ‘I’ll have you know I even hired a prostitute once.’

   ‘Once? I seem to remember at least… what was it… _five_ times?’

   ‘I lost count. So… how was it? Tonight?’

   ‘The sex?’ Yuri said, pulling a face. ‘Average.’

   Otabek rolled his eyes. ‘Your last _day_. Was it… happy? Sad?’

   Yuri shrugged. ‘It was… fine. Like always. I’m not going to be shedding any tears or anything.’

   ‘How are you feeling about Monday? Are you nervous?’ he said, voice a little teasing.

   ‘Oh please, this’ll be _nothing_. At least for this job I won’t have to spend anywhere _near_ as much time getting ready. Besides, I’m looking forward to working during the day - we’ll finally get to have whole nights together.’

   ‘Excellent,’ said Otabek. ‘Plenty of time for _sleep_ , then. Unless you had other ideas?’

*

   Whatever he had said to Otabek, Yuri _was_ nervous.

   He changed his outfit three times before his first day, and he arrived almost an hour early due to a sudden paralysing fear that the metro might break down.

   He needn’t have worried.

   Yuuri Katsuki was sweet. A little too sweet, for Yuri’s taste, but nonetheless it was difficult to feel moody around him.

   By the time that he arrived back at Otabek’s apartment in the evening, letting himself through the coded entry and knocking rhythmically on his front door, he was feeling genuinely elated. If you asked him, he had done fairly well at his first day-job.

   ‘What’s all this?’ he said, before Otabek had even opened his mouth.

   Yuri pushed into the apartment, nosing at the kitchen table with a barely concealed smile.

   Otabek had made an effort.

   The table was dressed for an occasion, candle lit in the centre and red wine already poured. The whole apartment smelled of cooking, something unfamiliar and vaguely spicy.

   ‘Congratulations on your first day,’ Otabek said, holding out a glass and raising his for a toast.

   ‘Oh yeah, well done me,’ Yuri shrugged, knocking back most of his glass with relish.

   ‘How was it?’ Otabek said, taking Yuri’s jacket for him and throwing it over the couch.

   ‘Alright. People are stupid - have you ever noticed? In my old profession they just wanted sex - _easy_. But this lot… my God you have to draw them a fucking roadmap just to get them to walk down the hall.’

   Otabek was smiling.

   ‘ _That_ being said,’ Yuri added, sitting down, ‘I seem to remember you needing a fair amount of guidance.’

   ‘I did not,’ Otabek scoffed.

   ‘Oh Beka, I practically had to draw _you_ a roadmap to my ass.’

   The Kazakh rested his fingers over Yuri’s shoulders, thumbs massaging into his shoulder-blades. ‘Well, I know my way now.’

   Yuri rolled his head back against Otabek’s chest, eyes closing, feeling the tension knead out of his neck and back as his fingers went to work. He wasn’t used to working on his feet or keeping his head rigidly level with a computer for hours on end. Most of his work before had involved being tossed down on beds.

   ‘Don’t stop,’ he whispered, as a particularly deep roll of Otabek’s thumb sent a shiver down his spine.

   ‘Your dinner is done,’ he said over the insistent beeping of the timer.

   ‘One more minute.’

   ‘Don’t fret, my love. I’ll unravel all your knots later,’ Otabek breathed into his ear, before releasing him, ignoring Yuri’s whine of protest.

*

   Celebration sex was definitely Yuri’s new favourite.

   He sat back on Otabek’s thighs, gazing down at him with wide, exploratory eyes. _Fuck_ he’d never get tired of looking at him like this.

   Yuri knew that he was cute himself - he’d been told it enough times. He knew that he was pretty, sexy, appealing in an elfin sort of way. But Otabek was the epitome of _handsome_ \- with an air of classic masculinity the kind that you only saw in the movies.

   Dark, brooding eyes; a sharp, black undercut; thin, stoic lips. Yuri dragged his eyes down over his body, swiping his tongue out over his lips as he fought the urge to start touching him again.

   He caught the way that the hollow of his throat shimmered with a sheen of sweat; the way that his chest rose and fell in anticipation; the way that his abs flexed in tension every time Yuri shifted his weight and their cocks grazed tantalizingly together.

   ‘My Beka,’ he sighed, ‘I thought you wanted to congratulate me?’ A dark gleam crept into his wide, innocent-looking eyes.

   ‘Is that an invitation?’

   ‘Do I need to draw you a roadmap?’ Yuri goaded, tilting his head sideways.

   He let out a small yelp as Otabek caught him by the hips and flipped their position before he could even finish the last word, throwing him down on his back. _Finally_. It had taken so long for Otabek to stop treating him like a china doll.

   ‘Better,’ he breathed, grinning as Otabek laced their fingers together and pinned his hands over his head, pressing them down into the soft mattress. Yuri twisted a little, just to experiment with the strength of his grip, but found it appealingly inflexible. ‘Maybe you’re not so innocent after all,’ he said, licking his lips again as he watched Otabek panting over him, knees straddling around his waist.

   ‘That makes two of us, so you can drop the innuendo,’ said Otabek, breath hot on Yuri’s face. ‘If you want me to _fuck_ you, just ask.’

   The way he stressed the sound sent a flush all the way through Yuri’s body. It was such an unfamiliar word to hear coming from that mouth. Yuri knew that it had been chosen for his benefit, but he made it sound convincing enough. Was this really the same Otabek who had picked him up that first night?

   _I’ve taught him well_ , he thought, smiling to himself.

   ‘Oh just get on with it,’ Yuri said, rolling his eyes and trying his very best to sound flippant. It was difficult when his heart was thudding against his chest and his cock was achingly hard from the foreplay that seemed a lifetime ago.

   Otabek just watched him, dark eyes trailing up and down his body from his superior vantage point.

   ‘Oh _please_ , Beka,’ Yuri whined.

   That seemed to do the trick.

   Otabek released one of his hands to trail down his body instead, fingers gripping around his waist and angling his hips up to allow for better entry. It had been long enough since prep that Yuri let out a tight, airy sigh as Otabek pressed inside him, and lifted his free hand to knot in his dark hair, pulling his head down to kiss him as he adjusted.

   ‘Happy first day,’ Otabek exhaled against his throat, kissing down the side of his neck as he withdrew almost entirely and re-entered hard and fast, bottoming out with a groan.

   ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Yuri seethed, the sudden change in pace pushing him up the sheets with force.

   He made a sequence of supplicating, needy moans as Otabek established a rhythm, the sort of noises that would have made him hide his face in shame with anyone else. Instead, he watched Otabek smile, drop his jaw - felt his fingers clench tighter on his hand with each desperate sound.

   Otabek might have said that he would _fuck_ him, but he didn’t.

   He made love to him - slowly, romantically, almost poetically.

   Yuri had never wanted something more - never _needed_ something more.

   ‘Beka, Otabek, please,’ Yuri panted, fingers searching for purchase on Otabek’s lithe back. Otabek shifted his hand to stroke over his cock, but Yuri shook his head, punctuating his words with a gasp as a particularly hard thrust found his prostrate with dizzying accuracy. ‘No, just from you - just from this - _ah -_ ’ he groaned, ‘just talk to me.’

   Otabek let go, planting his hand beside Yuri’s head so that he could shift his weight upwards, lowering his lips to his ear. ‘My beautiful Yura,’ he sighed, ‘my love.’

   The softness of his words combined with the hard rhythm of his sex made Yuri throw back his head, writhing beneath him more desperation that he ever had in his life.

   It wasn’t physical. He wouldn’t even be able to put an estimate on how many times he’d been fucked, how many different ways he’d been taken, how many different people had staked a bodily claim on him. The physical paled in comparison to the sheer eroticism of Otabek’s _love_.  

   That was unique.

   ‘My perfect, stunning, strong Yuri.’

   Yuri mewled, squeezing his eyes shut because they were stinging with too much emotion - too much need.

   Otabek was too close. ‘ _Yura._ ’

   Yuri came hard - untouched - with a raw, carnal gravity, as though this moment was the only thing grounding him to this earth. He felt his whole body clench - _unclench_ \- bringing Otabek over the edge with him.

   ‘Beka,’ he whispered, frozen in time, never wanting this moment to end. The moment _after_. The moment when they looked into each other’s eyes, fingers still interlinked, bodies still connected. ‘I love you,’ he said, breath catching in his throat as he tried to swallow down the emotion that threatened to overflow.

   Otabek climbed off him, laying down beside him instead and taking him into his arms. ‘I love you too,’ he said, kissing the crown of Yuri’s head as he held him close.

   ‘I love you. I love you. I love you,’ Yuri said, tasting the words over and over as he exhaled against Otabek’s skin. They were becoming more familiar now, more practiced, more natural. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

   ‘Hey,’ Otabek said, with a light laugh, ‘that’s my line.’

   ‘Thank you,’ Yuri said again, burying his head into Otabek’s chest. He couldn’t find the words to elaborate, to thank him for everything he wanted to, but for now it was enough.

   They lay together for some time, sticky with sex and out of breath, but neither of them had much desire to move.

   Finally, when enough time had passed that one of them could have fallen asleep, Yuri spoke. ‘Beka?’

   ‘Yes, sweetheart?’

   Yuri pulled the sheet up to cover some of his face shyly, wondering whether he could put the words together. ‘We’re a love story now right?’

   Otabek said, shifting onto his elbow so that he could look at him. ‘I’d say so, yeah.’

   ‘But not a boring one,’ Yuri supplied, eyes wide.

   ‘No story with you in could ever be boring, Yuri,’ said Otabek, settling back down and pulling Yuri with him so that his cheek rested against his shoulder.

   ‘You changed my life,’ he said quietly, fingers stroking over Otabek’s arm.

   ‘You changed mine first. From the moment I saw you.’

   ‘Copycat,’ Yuri mumbled, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. Sleep beckoned. ‘Now, shush. Some of us have _work_ in the morning.’

   ‘Mm, this is payback,’ Otabek said, kissing the tip of his nose and not missing the giggle that escaped between Yuri’s lips, ‘for all those times I went to work on zero sleep because of special nights with you.’

   ‘Well if revenge is this good every time, I’m not going to complain.’

   ‘This good? It’s only going to get better, Yura.’

   It was true.

   Things were only going to get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this made up for the pain last chapter <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank all so much for sticking with this story as ever. I can’t believe next chapter is the last for this story arc! Here we have 90% self-indulgence, because I feel like by Chapter 11 this is what these angels deserve.

   ‘Move in with me.’

   Yuri almost choked on his pirozhki.

   He had done many, many things that he never would have predicted during his first month working at the library. He had opened a bank account, cooked several meals containing more than one food group, and bought a smart, button-down shirt the likes of which he had never bothered to own before.

   But moving in with Otabek?

   That was unpredictable on a whole new level.

   ‘Like… into your apartment?’ he said, swallowing hard and checking that none of the other diners in the small, charming restaurant had noticed his spluttering fit.

   ‘If you want. Or we can look around for a new place for the two of us. Whatever you want. If you want. If you don’t want… I understand. I’m just putting it out there like if you _wanted -_ ’

   ‘Stop, Beka,’ Yuri rolled his eyes, ‘you don’t have to go into full panic mode every time you ask me something.’

   ‘So… would you want to…?’

   Yuri looked down, mind racing. ‘I don’t… I don’t know…’

   ‘It’s a big step, I know,’ Otabek said quickly, ‘if it’s too fast… maybe you could move some stuff over to mine or something. We could try a little bit of time or - ’

   ‘It’s not that,’ said Yuri, playing with his food, ‘it’s just… _my_ place. I can’t leave Milo by himself, he’ll waste away… I don’t think he even knows how to work the microwave! And I can’t… I can’t afford the rent on a place like yours. I mean I can afford more than before but your place is crazy - ’

   ‘I don’t rent my place, Yuri, I own it. You wouldn’t have to worry about that.’

   Of course he owned it. ‘Oh… right… but I… I’d pay you, right? I mean you’d let me contribute? I don’t want to be a kept man.’ He wrinkled his nose.

   Otabek smiled to himself - as if Yuri could ever be anything other than singularly independent. ‘Let you? You can do whatever you want, my love. I don’t have to _let_ you do anything. We can sort something out - I mean we’ve never exactly been conventional, have we?’

   ‘Okay.’

   ‘Is that a yes?’

   ‘Yeah, okay. Just give me… a little time… to sort things out.’

*

   Walking down the sidewalk that he had so often treaded was… strange.

   The street seemed to have a different edge now, though he was sure he just mustn’t have noticed it before. It felt… dangerous. Most definitely the bad part of town. Not to mention the risk of encountering someone that he didn’t want to run into again.

   Had it always been this dark? Had the air always held the threat of attack as it did now?

   He searched through the darkness, smiling when he saw that Anastacia was framed in one of the doorways. He spotted the tendrils of smoke before he saw her face.

   ‘Gabe! You’re not back, are you? Don’t tell me you’re back, pussycat,’ she said, stubbing out her cigarette and throwing her arms around him. ‘Not that I’m not happy to see you.’

   ‘Don’t worry, I’m still on the straight and narrow,’ he said. ‘Can we go for coffee? I’ll buy.’

   Yuri and Anastacia walked together to the nearest all-night café - a drab, dingy little place with a drug deal in progress in the far corner. Yuri bought drinks, making sure to pick up a sandwich, slightly stale-looking but large nonetheless.

   ‘For you,’ he said, pushing it across the table.

   ‘Was that a bank card I saw?’ she remarked, picking the lettuce out of the side of the bread with long, stick-thin fingers.

   ‘Oh yeah, I’m legit now,’ he said, ‘it’s a brave new world.’

   ‘So, what brings you back around here? I think I told you, in the nicest possible way, that I never wanted to see you ever again?’ she said, smiling.

   ‘I’m moving out of the flat.’

   ‘By which you mean you’re moving _in_ with your fancy man?’ she said, smile widening.

   ‘Maybe.’ Yuri picked at some coffee that had dried onto the side of his cup. ‘The thing is… I was wondering if you and your brother were still looking for someone to take Peter’s old room?’

   She raised her eyebrows. ‘Where are you going with this?’

   ‘I can’t leave Milo on his own, Ana, he’ll starve. He likes you, and he doesn’t get along with _many_ people. And he hates that flat - he’s always complaining about the draught, and - ’

   ‘Alright, alright, give me his number,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll talk to Maxim.’

   ‘Thanks, Ana.’

   ‘I’m so happy for you, Gabe, you know that, right? You really made it out. I wasn’t kidding when I said don’t come back around here - you shouldn’t waste time on people like me anymore, I don’t want to drag you down.’

   ‘Don’t be stupid. You’re my friend,’ Yuri said.

   ‘I remember the first time I came down this street. You told me that if I ever stole one of your clients you’d hunt me down and cut all my hair off.’

   ‘Yeah, well I was younger and much more territorial.’

   ‘You must have been, what, eighteen? You were still hanging on the coattails of that other guy… what was his name?’

   ‘He went by Raphael. That’s how I chose my name.’

   ‘Raphael… that’s right. What ever happened to him?’

   Yuri looked down. ‘Dead. Drugs.’

   The memory of Raphael was something that would always stick with him. Thinking back, he hadn’t been a great guy - not really - but for his most of his first year on the streets, he had been everything to Yuri. He had taught him how to survive in this world after finding him in that snow-torn alleyway, found him that apartment to live in, told him to pick a name for himself and stick to it.

   He had, for a long time.

   Now Gabriel hung around his conscience like a childhood friend, the name familiar but the memories becoming blurrier the harder he tried to focus.

   ‘This is why it’s good that you got out, hun.’

   ‘Have you… ever thought about…?’ he started, but Anastacia gave him the same, stern look that he had once given Otabek at the same question.

   ‘Maybe one day,’ she said after a long pause. ‘Maybe someone will come and sweep me off my feet like your Otabek.’

   ‘I hope so,’ he said, draining his coffee. ‘I hope so.’

*

   Yuri and Otabek had decided together to look for a new place: a fresh start, the clean slate that Yuri had always craved. Yuri had pored over and over the brochures, already mapping out furniture in his head. It was a strange new reality… thinking about furniture. How things had changed.

   Throughout the early spring, they must have looked at twenty apartments, but nowhere seemed… _them_.

   In the end, they didn’t buy any apartment.

   When Otabek’s work became busier, more stressful, and almost totally time-consuming as work on the bank reached its busiest stage, they swore off looking for somewhere to live for a while, instead settling into Otabek’s old, familiar place. At least there they knew that they were secure.

   ‘What is it, Beka?’ Yuri asked one night later in the month, framed in the living room doorway.

   It was three a.m., but Otabek hadn’t gone to bed yet. He hadn’t even changed out of his suit. Yuri, on the other hand, was dressed only in briefs, hair mussed with a couple of hours’ worth of rest, eyes sleepy. He leant against the frame, rubbing his eyes.

   ‘You said you’d come to bed in a minute. It’s been three hours.’

   ‘I’ll be done soon,’ said Otabek, tearing up another sheet of paper.

   ‘What’s going on? You barely even touch me anymore. You never come to bed.’

   Otabek looked up, eyes widening as he saw the crumpled expression on Yuri’s face. ‘Oh hey, hey, my love. Come here,’ he said, pushing aside his work and opening his arms.

   ‘You’re not getting bored of me, are you?’

   ‘Of course not, Yura,’ he said, pulling him down beside him and picking up the blanket on the couch to wrap over his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just so stressed.’

   ‘I thought you were supposed to be winding down on the bank?’

   ‘I am,’ he sighed. ‘But two people just went off sick at the office - I’ve got everyone else’s schedules to pick up at the minute.’

   ‘That’s not your job,’ Yuri said indignantly. ‘Please come to bed. I miss you.’

   Otabek kneaded his forehead, thinking over the mountain of paperwork that he still had to complete. The thought of Yuri in bed was… more appealing. ‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry,’ he said, cricking his neck from side to side and negotiating his arms around Yuri’s small form. ‘Let’s go.’

   He picked him up in one smooth motion, smiling for the first time in hours as Yuri laughed, grabbing onto his shirt. Otabek carried him back to the bedroom, laying him down on the mattress and turning around to finally pull off his tie. He stripped down quickly, before moving to take Yuri back into his arms.

   Yuri, to his surprise, extricated himself, and instead pushed Otabek back onto the sheets.

   ‘Now, relax,’ he said, straddling over his legs and leaning to kiss down his chest.

   ‘Yura, you don’t have to,’ Otabek said, fingers moving to card through his hair.

   ‘Shh.’

   Yuri kissed lower, taking his waistband between his fingers and kissing over the thin fabric of his shorts. Otabek exhaled, fingers tightening their grip, eyes closing at the flood of arousal. Yuri was right - it had been too long since they’d done this.

   He groaned as Yuri mouthed over his increasing hardness, finally freeing his cock and taking it smoothly into his mouth, one hand moving to the base to stroke over the places that his tongue couldn’t reach - not so long as they were taking it slow.

Getting blown by Yuri was always an experience. _Experience_ , being the key word. It had got to the point that Otabek was vaguely insecure about his own sexual performance, such was Yuri’s astounding skill. Still, Yuri always assured him that there was nothing more he could wish for from him.

   Otabek felt the tension in his body shift from knots in his shoulders and aches in his neck to a tight grip over his stomach instead - the good kind of tension. The thoughts of work and stress faded into obscurity, mind occupied only by the warmth of Yuri’s mouth, the gentle curl of his tongue, the extraordinary reach as Yuri took him deeper.

   He let out a moan as he felt himself hit the back of Yuri’s throat, shifting his hips upwards automatically, but Yuri gave no indication of discomfort. He was so good at this it was outrageous. Every sensation seemed to hit him with extra power, his skin ultra sensitive, electricity running down his arm when Yuri closed his fingers over the hand in his hair, encouraging him to use his purchase there more to direct him.

   The pace didn’t have to increase much more before he came, Yuri’s name stumbling from his lips over and over. His whole body twitched as Yuri refused to let up, tongue sweeping out over his oversensitive head to lap up every drop with mean diligence. Finally, he let him go, crawling up on the bed to settle beside him instead with a sly, smug smile.

   ‘All done,’ he said, resting a hand down on Otabek’s chest.

   ‘ _Christ_ Yuri. You can’t just spring that on a guy…’ he panted.

   ‘What?’ Yuri said innocently. ‘It got you to relax, didn’t it?’

   Otabek made a sound that could hardly be an argument.

   ‘Now, let’s get some sleep. Love you Beka.’

   ‘I think you made that pretty clear.’

   Yuri laughed, pulling as close to him as the laws of space and mass would allow, and resumed his favourite past time of falling into a trance with Otabek’s heartbeat.

*

   It wasn’t until there was a hint of summer in the air that Otabek broached the subject of living arrangements again.

   ‘Yuri, my love,’ he said, stroking his fingers through his blond hair slowly and tracing down the line of his cheekbone.

   They had fallen asleep on the couch the previous evening, TV still playing, second bottle of wine half empty. They had managed to sneak a couple of rare days off, during which Yuri had locked away Otabek’s plans and pencils so that he could have him totally to himself.

   ‘Mm?’ Yuri hummed, shifting against Otabek’s chest and tilting his head upwards to look at him.

   ‘Can I build you something?’

   ‘Something like what?’

   ‘A house. Can I build you a house?’

   Yuri sat bolt upright, blanket falling from his shoulders. ‘Like… a dollhouse?’

   Otabek laughed, sliding his hands to Yuri’s thighs and squeezing gently. ‘Like a _house_. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I put all my money from the bank project away to save. It’s enough to buy some land. We could move a little bit out of the city. Or way out. Whatever you want. Commute in. We could design the place ourselves - tailor every detail to you,’ he added, looking at Yuri with the sort of expression that was reserved for classic romance movies. ‘Then there’s no one else’s memories to contend with, and none of our past. Just a clean slate, just _us_ and the future.’

   ‘Do you think you would actually be able to… build a house?’ Yuri said, mouth hanging open.

   ‘Sweetheart, I’m an architect.’

   ‘Oh… yeah.’

   ‘In a few weeks, the bank will be out of my hands. And then I’m going to have some time off.’

   ‘I can’t wait.’

   ‘We can have a huge garden. Fresh air, plants, maybe a dog.’

   ‘Cat,’ Yuri interrupted.

   ‘Or both?’ Otabek suggested. ‘I can have a big studio for work, and you can have an office… somewhere to study…’

   Yuri blushed. It had been embarrassing, nerve-wracking the first time that he had told him that he wanted to try to get his diploma - the one he’d missed out on in his adolescence.

   ‘We’ll have to have spare rooms, because when my family find out I’m building a house for a man, they’re going to want to meet you. And trust me, they travel en masse.’

   ‘Wait until they find out how we met,’ Yuri giggled, playing with Otabek’s hands.

   ‘- and we’ll have a massive kitchen, so I can cook for you.’

   ‘And high ceilings,’ Yuri said, settling back down and kissing his cheek. ‘I like to feel like I can breathe.’

   ‘Open-plan, then?’

   ‘And the biggest bed we can buy,’ Yuri continued, ‘with a _really_ strong headboard.’

   Otabek laughed, arching his neck back as Yuri brushed his kisses down to there, then to his chest. ‘Whatever would we need that for?’

   ‘You realise if you build me a fucking house, you’re not going to be able to get me off you for months?’ Yuri said against his skin. ‘That might just be the most erotic thing you could ever do for someone.’

   ‘I was thinking more _romantic_ ,’ Otabek shrugged, trying to keep his voice casual as Yuri started to work his tongue over his bare chest now.

   ‘I was thinking both,’ said Yuri, kissing down the line of dark hair from his navel to his waistband in a familiar trail. Otabek was just starting to sigh into bliss, excited for the next few minutes, when Yuri sat back on his heels, cocking his head to one side.

   Otabek opened his eyes, looking affronted.

   ‘Can we have a veranda? _Oh my God_ , I need to start making a list,’ Yuri announced, business-like, climbing off the couch and skipping over to the mantelpiece.

   Otabek threw his head back against the couch cushions with a groan, but then he turned to watch Yuri’s back as he fiddled around for a pen. Soft, fresh blond hair falling past the collar of one of Otabek’s t-shirts. Cute, fluidly moving hips as he reached around, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. An excited, eager smile, tongue poking out between his teeth, when he turned back, notepad in hand.

   Perfect Yuri.

   Happy Yuri.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I can’t believe this is the last chapter of the story. It’s been such a thrill writing it, and honestly I feel like I won’t be able to let go of them for a while. Thank you to all of you who have read the story over these last six months - I couldn’t have finished it without you.  
> I have a lot of deleted scenes and drafts and epilogues for this story that I might end up attaching at some point as appendices, but for now, this is the end of this arc.  
> It’s a chapter in four parts. I numbered them.  
> Love xx

**14 Months Later**

1.

Yuri had never really kept track of his birthdays. He had only admitted the date after considerable coaxing from Otabek, who had been horrified to discover that he had missed it now on _two_ occasions.

   And so, by the time that the first proper sun of July rose over the house on the hill, bringing with it a rush of warmth and the blooming of the dahlias that framed the winding pathway leading up to the door, it was with considerable insistence that Otabek pulled Yuri out to the car, announcing that they were going shopping.

   ‘But it’s _not_ my birthday - not for months!’ Yuri had rolled his eyes what felt like a thousand times the previous evening, and apparently this morning was no different.

   ‘I missed it _twice_ , Yura. Let me buy you something,’ pleaded Otabek, taking Yuri’s hands in his and lifting them to kiss his fingers. ‘An honorary birthday!’

   ‘It really bothers you that much?’ Yuri said sceptically, pulling away and walking around the car to his side. He leant against the hot roof, watching Otabek’s expression with curiosity. ‘It’s just a date - it doesn’t matter.’

   ‘It matters to me,’ Otabek said firmly. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Come to town with me.’

   Yuri sighed, but only because he liked the way it made Otabek bristle. ‘Alright, alright, let’s go,’ he said with mock disinterest.

   ‘ _Yes_!’ Otabek responded smugly, jumping into the car so quickly that it made Yuri roll his eyes _one_ more time.

   He looked back at the house.

   It wasn’t finished yet - not quite. Some of the walls still needed painting, and the back garden remained more of a dumping yard than a _garden_ , but it was near enough there. And yet, if you didn’t know that it was new, you might’ve believed that it had stood there forever. Otabek had sketched up his whole design for the façade on the back of a napkin in a restaurant one evening, after a moment of inspiration, and if he squinted hard enough Yuri could still visualise the pencil lines amongst the traditional wood cladding.

   ‘Yura!’

   He looked away, back to the car. He never liked leaving this place - he’d spend every minute hidden away safe in its walls if he could - but Moscow was only a short drive away, and Yuri always felt secure as long as he had a little bit of home with him. And Otabek was his home.

*

   ‘You’re kidding?’

   ‘You wanted one,’ Otabek shrugged, leaning against the door of the shelter with a smug smile.

   ‘This… this is the best present ever,’ Yuri breathed, face close to the glass window to try to get a look inside.

   Cats.

   Between the plans and the paperwork and the builders stomping their way in and out of his home for months, Yuri had already forgotten about all the things that he had promised himself for the future. But Otabek hadn’t.

   Otabek took him inside the open shelter, following a lady at the front desk through to the pet-pens out back, watching with a bemused expression as Yuri darted away from him, launching himself forwards with childlike innocence. The cats loved him, but then that was no surprise - it was difficult not to love Yuri.

   ‘That one!’ Yuri announced, ‘that one looks like you.’

   ‘Why do you always find something that looks like me?’ Otabek laughed, eyes crinkling. He could never quite see it, but as usual he took Yuri’s word for it. Yuri leant down over the fence, picking up the sleek black cat and holding it up in front of his eyes.

   The cat grumbled as he took it into his arms, huffing its face into the front of his shirt.

   ‘Oh yes, she’s a girl but she’s definitely you,’ Yuri confirmed.

   Otabek snorted, turning around to approach the lady who had helped them. As the sound came out, he cringed, realising that Yuri was exactly right. He didn’t miss the small laugh that followed him.

   ‘That one? She’s lovely, isn’t she?’ she said, smiling at the cat now curled up neatly against Yuri’s chest.

   ‘Yes, yes he is,’ Otabek said, before remembering that he was supposed to be looking at the _cat_. ‘I mean _she_. She!’ He cleared his throat. ‘They’re all rescues here, right?’

   ‘All local strays,’ she said. ‘This one’s been here for ages. Nina. She’s usually in a right strop whenever people come looking. But she seems to like him.’

   ‘Everyone likes him,’ Otabek exhaled, watching Yuri bury his nose in the soft fur behind the cat’s ears.

   ‘Well she’s difficult to please. The only other cat she’ll tolerate is this one over here.’

   The lady walked with him back over to the pen, reaching down to pick up the tiniest bundle of white fur that had been nestled so far in the corner that Otabek had not even noticed it.

   ‘I brought her in only a few days ago. Poor little thing must have been abandoned by her mother. But I think Nina has adopted her. She’s very protective.’

   Otabek took the small, precious bundle into his hands, holding it up to his face and staring with wide eyes. The kitten was sleeping, head lolling down a little in his palm. ‘Yura,’ he whispered, tilting his head. ‘This one’s you.’

   Yuri walked over, not letting go of the cat in his arms, craning around Otabek’s shoulder to get a good look. ‘Scrawny, sleepy, and lifted off the streets? Sounds like me,’ Yuri said, shifting to eye level with the kitten and smiling.

   ‘Can we take them both?’

   Yuri looked up in surprise, mouth open. ‘We can get two?’

   ‘Well if you’re having one, I want one,’ Otabek said indignantly.

   ‘I thought you wanted a dog?’ chided Yuri.

   ‘I changed my mind! Besides, it would be cruel now, to split them up.’

   ‘Just like we’ll never be apart again, right?’ Yuri said, squeezing in close to his side and looking at the two cats side by side. Nina yawned, tongue swiping out and over the kitten’s ear gently.

   ‘Never,’ Otabek assured him.

   ‘Does this one have a name?’ Yuri turned to the lady.

   ‘Not yet.’

   ‘You can name her.’

   Yuri looked down at the curl of white fluff in Otabek’s hand. ‘Potya. I’m calling her Potya.’

 

2.

Sick. Otabek felt sick.

   It had taken him so long to tell them - and even longer to let them travel - but the day was finally here and there was nothing he could do about it.

   Otabek had been surprised, really, at their response. Whatever he had told Yuri, he had been anxious at how they would take the news. He knew that they had always held out hope for a daughter-in law. And yet, when he’d finally admitted that he was building a house for his boyfriend, they’d been nothing but thrilled. They were also completely furious that he’d kept him hidden away for so long.

   ‘Where is he?’

   ‘Hello to you too, pa,’ Otabek said, rolling his eyes.

   ‘Answer your father, Otabek!’

   His mother was a strong woman - proud and tall and currently dominating the space as she craned her neck around, perhaps hoping that Yuri would emerge from the crowd at the airport.

   ‘Yuri is at work,’ Otabek said, holding back a laugh. ‘You’ll get to meet him later.’        

   ‘Hey, brother,’ said Rustam, pulling him into a rough hug. ‘I missed you.’

   ‘You too, Rus.’

   ‘You’ll take us to see the bank, won’t you?’

   ‘Yes, father.’

   ‘Who cares about some building? Take us to see your Yuri, son,’ his mother interrupted, pushing Rustam out of the way and hugging him tightly.

   The nausea that had gripped his stomach since the morning was starting to loosen, tension relaxing. They were going to love him. And more importantly, Yuri was going to love them.

*

   Yuri took a breather halfway through dinner, hurrying his way to the kitchen in the guise of topping up drinks. It had taken the first hour for his hands to stop shaking, and the nerves had only worsened when they’d started asking questions. Questions that he couldn’t quite answer. Questions about how they had met.

   ‘Alright?’

   Yuri span around, almost dropping the bottle he was holding as Otabek’s brother wandered around the counter. ‘Oh, hi Rustam,’ he said, turning back to the glasses.

   ‘So you’re the one?’

   ‘Huh?’ When he turned again, Rustam was leant back against the granite countertop, a knowing smile written across his face.

   ‘The _one_. He probably thought I forgot. But I remember. “ _Oh Rus, he’s so perfect, perfect_ Yuri _…_ ”’ he imitated, with remarkable accuracy. Clearly he’d spent a lot of time with his brother. ‘“ _Oh_ _Rus, I can never have him… Can you be in love with someone after the first time, Rus?”_ He was so drunk, he probably doesn’t even remember, bless him.’

   Yuri stared, mouth half open.

   ‘He phoned me the night after, completely cut up. He said you’d think he was some dirty old man,’ he laughed, taking one of the glasses that Yuri had filled. ‘He never mentioned you again - I figured he’d seen sense and not gone back. But on the contrary… I don’t often say it, but I guess I was wrong.’

   ‘Rustam… don’t… you can’t tell…’ Yuri stammered.

   Rustam put his hands up quickly. ‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I’d never. I won’t even tell Otabek I know. I just had to check… I needed to know if I was right. It’s not such a common name.’

   ‘Fuck…’ said Yuri, putting down the bottle because his hands had started to shake again. ‘You must think I’m - ’

   ‘Couldn’t care less, mate,’ said Rustam, shrugging his shoulders. There was a hint of _Milo_ about him that made him strangely appealing - difficult to dislike. ‘All I care about is the fact that you saved my brother. That’s good enough for me.’

   ‘I… what?’

   ‘Otabek. He was a right mess before he met you. Always working, always stressed - I don’t think he’d talked to a real human being outside work for months before I sent him out to find you,’ he said slyly. ‘He didn’t know who he was or where he was going. Now he’s a different man. He’s so happy. You’ve made him so happy, Yuri.’

   Yuri blushed a little, looking down.

   ‘Seriously,’ said Rustam, and his face reflected his words. ‘Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for him.’

   The flood of embarrassment that had rushed through him took a while to fade. He wasn’t ashamed of how they’d met. Quite the opposite - Yuri would stand up for his former profession at every battleground. But Otabek’s family was… different.

   It wasn’t until late in the night, when the dinner was over and he was finally wrapped up in Otabek’s arms again, that he really thought over Rustam’s words.

   He’d always thought of Otabek as the hero of the story. He’d never once considered that it might just be the other way around.

   ‘What are you thinking about?’ Otabek asked, kissing his forehead and pulling him close against him.

   ‘Nothing,’ said Yuri. He nestled tightly into the hold, hands knotting into his shirt. ‘Nothing.’

   That particular secret was safe with him.

 

3.

   ‘When did you get so… _clean_?’

   ‘When did you get so… domestic?’ Milo retorted, looking Yuri up and down.

   Yuri flushed, crossing his arms over the front of his fluffy sweater. ‘I’m not domestic, I just discovered fabric softener. Maybe you should try it some time.’

   Not that Milo needed it. He looked fresher than Yuri had ever seen him, clean-shaven and dressed in an actual button down shirt rather than one of the three metal band t-shirts that he had cycled for years. He was still dealing drugs, of course, from what Yuri had heard. And he still smelled vaguely of one offending substance whenever he moved too quickly. But it was a start.

   ‘Come on, Miles,’ Ana said, darting up beside him and linking her arm through his. ‘Otabek has made borscht.’

   Yuri watched his friends move to the dining room with curious, slightly self-satisfied eyes. He wasn’t going to claim himself as the architect of all this, but he couldn’t help but smile.

   _You can’t save everyone_.

   That’s what Raphael had told him, one night out on the streets when Yuri had called an ambulance for some kid.

   _It could just as easily have been me_ , Yuri had retorted.

   What did it even matter? He had no idea what had happened to the boy, and Raphael had wound up dead. Well fuck him - at the very least Yuri could try, and if he said so himself he’d done a damn good job of helping his friends, even if it was just the smallest step in the right direction.

   It wasn’t until that evening, after Milo and Ana had left, arms wrapped around each other so tightly that their silhouette down the drive had blurred into one, that Yuri told him about… that.

   ‘I want to talk to you,’ he said, when they finally settled on the couch after clearing up the entire house. Two bundles of fur jumped up after him, curling themselves over his legs.

   ‘Oh God, that sounds serious,’ Otabek said tensely, anxiety threading his forehead.

   ‘About… things… about me.’

   ‘Oh.’

   It had been a long time, now, since they had met. Well over a year. Yuri had shared more with Otabek than he had shared with anyone in his life. But there was still so much that he didn’t know. There was still so much that Yuri maintained he could _never_ tell him. Every once in a while, though, he found the courage to share a moment, some chapter.

   Otabek shifted on the couch to face him, one hand settling down on his knee and squeezing gently.

   Yuri took a deep breath. ‘I want to tell you… about how it started.’

   ‘Okay,’ said Otabek, voice gentle and reassuring. ‘Talk to me.’

   A silence extended so long that anyone else might have stood up and walked out of the room, but Otabek was used to this. He was used to the way that sometimes Yuri had to delve deep, deep into the recesses of his mind to find the words for what he wanted to express.

   ‘My childhood was… it wasn’t pretty,’ Yuri said, selecting each word with precision, hovering over every one as though considering the next. ‘I was in and out of the system - neither of my parents were… in the picture. I’m not going to talk about that.’

   At that, Otabek nodded. He knew that there were things that Yuri needed to keep locked away, for his own wellbeing as much as anything else. Some doors didn’t need to be reopened.

   ‘For a while, my grandfather took care of me, but he was too old, too sick, and I was too much of a problem, and it… it didn’t work out.’

   Another thing that he never elaborated on.

   ‘Eventually I got lost amongst the files and the houses and I ended up in this group place with a bunch of other kids. Things there were… horrible. I left as soon as I turned sixteen.’

   Yuri fiddled with his fingernails, not looking up.

   ‘I actually made a go of it for a while. There’s this charity that helps out kids like me. They got me my first room and everything. But I’d dropped out of school long before I left, and I had all these… all these issues. I couldn’t pay the bills and I ended up back out on the streets. After a while I got to… that winter. You remember I told you?’

   How could he forget? The memory of that night at the party was seared in Otabek’s brain. Sometimes in the dead of night he would wake up from nightmares - nightmares that almost always took the form of watching Yuri desperate and alone, unable to help him.

   ‘So I started… doing what I did. I met this guy, Raphael. He was my tutor, my guide, for a long time my lifeline. He was a dick, too,’ Yuri added, looking up with a wry smile. ‘He stole a lot of my money and a lot of my clients and he never seemed to be there when I needed him. But he got me my room with Milo, and he taught me how to do my job. There’s a lot of things you wouldn’t think about,’ he said, ‘about how to stay healthy, how to stay safe, how to avoid the cops. How to pick clients, how to pay your way with dirty cash, how to… stay alive.’

   To Otabek’s surprise, Yuri laughed softly.

   ‘I idolised him. He was only on and off on the job - one of those people who would just get involved in whatever was going, really - but I thought he was so cool. He wasn’t like the broken shells I kept meeting - he was upbeat and funny and you never would have known he was falling apart at the seams. I modelled myself on him. He’s the reason I always kept smiling.’

   Otabek remembered how Yuri had been when he’d met him - playful, confident, street-wise but with that air of vulnerability that perhaps only Otabek saw. Had he really learned all his façade from this faceless man that he now told him about? ‘Do you still… see him?’ he asked carefully.

   ‘No. He… he’s gone. He died.’

   ‘I’m sorry, Yura.’

   ‘It’s fine. We were barely speaking by that point. He’d done one too many things that I couldn’t forgive him for. I wasn’t… I wasn’t in love with him, anymore.’

   At this, Otabek had to work hard to control the muscles in his jaw. What was it? Jealousy? He bit the sentiment back. He shouldn’t be feeling such a way about a dead man. Not one that might just have saved Yuri from a far worse fate out on the streets. He reconstructed his face, concentrating on the very fact that Yuri was alive and well and sat right in front of him.

   ‘So after that it was just me. I became pretty independent. Suddenly I kept seeing new kids on the block and I realised… I realised _I_ was Raphael now. I was the jaded, sharp old cad that everyone else talked about. People looked up to me. And people were scared of me,’ he smiled, ‘I only let Ana on my patch.’

   ‘You’re very selective with your friends,’ Otabek said, moving to hold his hands.

   ‘Then and now. I still… trusting people is still hard.’

   Otabek nodded. That, he knew.

   Then, out of nowhere: ‘I… I liked my job most of the time, Beka. You know that? Sometimes it was cruel and so long as it’s unregulated it will never be truly safe, but it wasn’t all bad. I liked the cash in hand, I liked the _freedom_ , I even liked the work on occasion. I wasn’t in need of rescuing.’

   Otabek looked at him in surprise. It had been a long time since Yuri had talked so openly about prostitution. He wasn’t sure what had triggered it, but he took the care to nod again in earnest, stroking over the backs of his hands in gentle circles. ‘I know, Yura, I know.’

   ‘But thank you,’ Yuri said, after a silence, ‘for doing it anyway.’

   ‘Come here,’ said Otabek, pulling him across the couch and into his lap.

   They entwined together, Yuri’s head tucked up under Otabek’s chin, for a long time. If he closed his eyes, Yuri could feel his partner’s heartbeat through his shirt.

   It wasn’t long before he fell asleep, but he woke up in bed, somewhere just before dawn.

   Otabek must have carried him there.

 

4.

   Otabek had this tendency… this tendency to make him feel like he was being touched for the very first time. Yuri let out a moan as Otabek made love to him, one hand knotted in his hair, breath hot and wet against his throat.

   This never got old.

   Never.

   By the time that they were done, Yuri was covered in a sheen of sweat, contentment spreading across his face as he curled into him. It had edged into early winter, now, and the warmth of his body was reassuring. Otabek pulled the blankets up over him, shifting as their skin stuck a little.

   ‘It’s snowing,’ Yuri exhaled, eyes trained on the picture window over Otabek’s shoulder.

   Snow.

   Snow that he’d learned to love.

   Snow that meant the start of his story with Otabek.

   Two years on, and it _still_ felt like the very first time.

   ‘Let’s go out,’ he said, unravelling himself from his arms. It was a natural inclination now, a draw to the snow and everything that it meant for him. He didn’t care that he was half naked, fumbling around for Otabek’s shirt and pulling it over his torso quickly. He probably shouldn’t go running out - he had work in the morning and college classes in the afternoon, but snow was snow and he wasn’t going to miss this.

   He turned back, lips twitching to a smile as he noticed the way his boyfriend was looking at him.

   ‘What?’

   ‘I love you so much, Yura.’

   ‘The _snow_ , Beka,’ he said, ignoring the sentiment and grabbing at his hand.

   ‘I want to be with you forever.’

   Yuri watched as he reached over, one hand searching around the nightstand, and then sat up.

   _No_ , he wasn’t going to -

   Yes he was.

   He stared - stared at the ring.

   ‘Yura, I know we can’t… we can’t do it here. Not yet.’

   ‘Beka…’

   ‘But it still means something, right?’

   Silence, and then:

   ‘Say it,’ Yuri said, climbing back onto the bed and crawling over to him. ‘Ask me.’

   ‘Marry me, Yura. One day. When the world finally catches up with us.’

   Yuri grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him back a little as he snatched at the box. It might be a special moment, but he wasn’t ever going to change. Otabek liked him the way he was, after all. He pulled loose the ring - a simple silver band - sliding it onto his finger and admiring the way that it glinted in the low light.

   ‘Yura,’ said Otabek, voice a little tense.

   ‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll marry you,’ he said, small smile creeping onto his face. He kept that under control, but he couldn’t hide the glassiness of his eyes, the quick brush of his fingers under them to push away the couple of tears that had snuck their way out.

   Otabek pulled him down, kissing him so passionately that it left him breathless.

   ‘I can’t believe you proposed like this,’ Yuri laughed, swatting at him. ‘You could have at least waited until we were dressed.’

   ‘Well, we’ve never exactly been conventional, have we?’

   It had become something of a slogan. Something of an armour against the world that wanted them to fit into their perfect boxes. But Yuri and Otabek were perfectly ill-fitting, their own strange little love story.

   ‘Snow now?’ said Yuri shakily, eyes fixated on the ring on his finger.

   Otabek caught him in his arms and swung him off the bed, standing him up neatly. Yuri looked down, eyes finally shifting to the man that he loved and moving devotedly over every feature - every line that he knew so well. ‘Next chapter?’ prompted Otabek, hands secure on his waist, holding him together as he always did because Yuri was edging towards crying _properly._

   ‘Next chapter,’ Yuri nodded.

   There would be so many more pages. So many more stories to write.

   As always, the snow was the beginning.

   But today?

_This_ -

   Yuri knew for sure, thinking to himself as he took in the vision of his life before him:

_This is what happiness feels like._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the final chapter, and I hope it made you smile. I will be uploading the first chapter of my new Otayuri fic tomorrow night, so if you enjoyed this, do come back to check it out.  
> Thank you so much for reading!


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